THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

"Ma"  Crandell 


BY  ETHEL  M,  DELL 


The  Way  of  an  Eagle 
The  Knave  of  Diamonds 
The  Rocks  of  Valpre 
The  Swindler,  and  Other 

Stories 

The  Keeper  of  the  Door 
Bars  of  Iron 
The  Hundredth  Chance 
The   Safety   Curtain,  and 

Other  Stories 
Greatheart 

The  Lamp  in  the  Desert 
The  Tidal  Wave 
The  Top  of  the  World 
The  Obstacle  Race 


The  Obstacle  Race 


By 

Ethel  M.  Dell 

Author  of  "The  Way  of  an  Eagle,"  "  The  Top  of  the  World,"  etc. 


G.   P.    Putnam's    Sons 
New    York    and    London 

Iknfcfcerbocfeer  press 
1921 


Copyright,  1921 

by 
Ethel  M.  Dell 

Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


CONTENTS 
PART  I 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. — BETTER  THAN  LONDON  *        ,        ,        .        3 

II. — SACRIFICE         ...««., 
III. — MAGIC      ....,»«. 

IV. — BROTHER  DICK         ....... 

V. — THE  GREAT  MAN     ..,„,, 
VI. — THE  VISITOR  ...... 

VII. — THE   OFFER    ....... 

VIII. — MRS.  FIELDING 

IX. — THE   INTRUDER  * 

PART  II 

I. — THE  WAND  OF  OFFICE 93 

II. — MIDSUMMER   MADNESS                             a  102 

III. — A  DRAWN  BATTLE 110 

IV. — A  POINT  OF  HONOUR      .        .  121 


iv  Contents 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

V. — THE  WAY  TO  HAPPINESS        ....  130 

VI. — RECONCILIATION 143 

VII.— THE  SPELL 149 

VIIL— THE  HONOURS  OF  WAR 160 

PART  III 

I. — BIRDS  OF  A  FEATHER 176 

II. — SALTASH           ........  187 

III.— THE  PRICE 198 

IV. — KISMET             209 

V. — THE  DRIVING  FORCE        .....  218 

VI. — THE  SISTER  OF  MERCY 235 

VII.— THE  SACRIFICE 243 

VIIL— THE  MESSAGE 253 

IX. — THE  ANSWER 263 

PART  IV 

I.— THE  FREE  GIFT 274 

II. — FRIENDSHIP 284 

III. — CONFESSION 297 

IV. — COUNSEL 304 


Contents  v 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

V. — THE  THUNDERBOLT 311 

VI. — COALS  OF  FIRE 323 

VIL— FLIGHT 331 

VIII. — OUT  OF  THE  NIGHT 342 

IX.— THE  FREE  PARDON  .*.  .  .  .  .350 

X. — THE  LAST  FENCE             357 


THE  OBSTACLE   RACE 


THE  OBSTACLE  RACE 


PART  I 

CHAPTER  I 

BETTER  THAN  LONDON 

A  LONG,  green  wave  ran  up,  gleaming  like  curved  glass  in 
the  sunlight,  and  broke  in  a  million  sparkles  against  a  shelf 
of  shingle.  Above  the  shingle  rose  the  soft  cliffs,  clothed 
with  scrubby  grass  and  crowned  with  gorse. 

"Columbus,"  said  the  stranger,  "this  is  just  the  place  for 
us." 

Columbus  wagged  a  cheery  tail  and  expressed  complete 
agreement.  He  was  watching  a  small  crab  hurrying  amon^ 
the  stones  with  a  funny  frown  between  his  brows.  He  was 
not  quite  sure  of  the  nature  or  capabilities  of  these  creatures, 
and  till  he  knew  more  he  deemed  it  advisable  to  let  them 
pass  without  interference.  A  canny  Scot  was  Columbus,  and 
it  was  very  seldom  indeed  that  anyone  ever  got  the  better 
of  him.  He  was  also  a  gentleman  to  the  backbone,  and  no 
word  his  mistress  uttered,  however  casual,  ever  passed  unac- 
knowledged by  him.  He  always  laughed  when  she  laughed, 
however  obscure  the  joke. 

He  smiled  now,  since  she  was  obviously  pleased,  but  with- 

3 


4  The  Obstacle  Race 

out  taking  his  sharp  little  eyes  off  the  object  of  his  interest. 
Suddenly  the  scuttling  crab  disappeared  and  he  started  up 
with  a  whine.  In  a  moment  he  was  scratching  in  the  shingle 
in  eager  search,  flinging  showers  of  stones  over  his  com- 
panion in  the  process. 

She  protested,  seizing  him  by  his  wiry  tail  to  make  him 
desist.  "Columbus !  Don't !  You're  burying  me  alive !  Do 
sit  down  and  be  sensible,  or  I'll  never  be  wrecked  on  a  desert 
island  with  you  again !" 

Columbus  subsided,  not  very  willingly,  dropping  with  a 
grunt  into  the  hole  he  had  made.  His  mistress  released  him, 
and  took  out  a  gold  cigarette-case. 

"I  wonder  what  I  shall  do  when  I've  finished  these,"  she 
mused.  "The  simple  life  doesn't  include  luxuries  of  this  sort. 
Only  three  left,  Columbus !  After  that,  your  missis'll  starve." 

She  lighted  a  cigarette  with  a  faint  pucker  on  her  wide 
brow.  Her  eyes  looked  out  over  the  empty,  tumbling  sea — 
grey  eyes  very  level  in  their  regard  under  black  brows  that 
were  absolutely  straight  and  inclined  to  be  rather  heavily 
accentuated. 

"Yes,  I  wish  I'd  asked  Muff  for  a  few  before  I  came 
away,"  was  the  outcome  of  her  reflections.  "By  this  time  to- 
morrow I  shan't  have  one  left.  Just  think  of  that,  my 
Christopher,  and  be  thankful  that  you're  just  a  dog  to  whom 
one  rat  tastes  very  like  another !" 

Columbus  sneezed  protestingly.  Whatever  his  taste  in 
rats,  cigarette-smoke  did  not  appeal  to  him.  His  mistress's 
fondness  for  it  was  her  only  failing  in  his  eyes. 

She  went  on  reflectively,  her  eyes  upon  the  sky-line.  "I 
shall  have  to  take  in  washing  to  eke  out  a  modest  living  in 
cigarettes  and  chocolates.  I  can't  subsist  on  Mr.  Rickett's 
Woodbines,  that's  quite  certain.  I  wonder  if  there's  a  pawn- 
shop anywhere  near." 


Better  than  London  5 

Her  voice  was  low  and  peculiarly  soft;  she  uttered  her 
words  with  something  of  a  drawl.  Her  hands  were  clasped 
about  her  knees,  delicate  hands  that  yet  looked  capable.  The 
lips  that  held  the  cigarette  were  delicately  moulded  also,  but 
they  had  considerable  character. 

"If  I  were  Lady  Joanna  Farringmore,  I  suppose  I  should 
say  something  rather  naughty  in  French,  Columbus,  to  relieve 
my  feelings.  But  you  and  I  don't  talk  French  do  we  ?  And 
we  have  struck  the  worthy  Lady  Jo  and  all  her  crowd  off 
our  visiting  list  for  some  time  to  come.  I  don't  suppose  any 
of  them  will  miss  us  much,  do  you,  old  chap?  They'll  just 
go  on  round  and  round  in  the  old  eternal  waltz  and  never 
realize  that  it  leads  to  nowhere."  She  stretched  out  her  arms 
suddenly  towards  the  horizon ;  then  turned  and  lay  down  by 
Columbus  on  the  shingle.  "Oh,  I'm  glad  we've  cut  adrift, 
aren't  you?  Even  without  cigarettes,  it's  better  than 
London." 

Again  Columbus  signified  his  agreement  by  kissing  her 
hair,  in  a  rather  gingerly  fashion  on  account  of  the  smoke; 
after  which,  as  she  seemed  to  have  nothing  further  to  say, 
he  got  up,  shook  himself,  and  trotted  off  to  explore  the  cran- 
nies in  the  cliffs. 

His  mistress  pillowed  her  dark  head  on  her  arm,  and  lay 
still,  with  the  sea  singing  along  the  ridge  of  shingle  below 
her.  She  finished  her  cigarette  and  seemed  to  doze.  A 
brisk  wind  was  blowing  from  the  shore,  but  the  beach  itself 
was  sheltered.  The  sunlight  poured  over  her  in  a  warm 
flood.  It  was  a  perfect  day  in  May. 

Suddenly  a  curious  thing  happened.  A  small  stone  from 
nowhere  fell  with  a  smart  tap  upon  her  uncovered  head !  She 
started,  surprised  into  full  consciousness,  and  looked  around. 
The  shore  stretched  empty  behind  her.  There  was  no  sign  of 
life  among  the  grass-grown  cliffs,  save  where  Columbus 


6  The  Obstacle  Race 

some  little  distance  away  was  digging  industriously  at  the 
root  of  a  small  bush.  She  searched  the  fringe  of  flaming 
gorse  that  overhung  the  top  of  the  cliff  immediately  behind 
her,  but  quite  in  vain.  Some  sea  gulls  soared  wailing  over- 
head, but  no  other  intruder  appeared  to  disturb  the  solitude. 
She  gave  up  the  search  and  lay  down  again.  Perhaps  the 
wind  had  done  it,  though  it  did  not  seem  very  likely. 

The  tide  was  rising,  and  she  would  have  to  move  soon  in 
any  case.  She  would  enjoy  another  ten  minutes  of  her  de- 
licious sun-bath  ere  she  returned  for  the  midday  meal  that 
Mrs.  Rickett  was  preparing  in  the  little  thatched  cottage 
next  to  the  forge. 

Again  she  stretched  herself  luxuriously.  Yes,  it  was  bettei 
than  London;  the  soft  splashing  of  waves  was  better  than 
the  laughter  of  a  hundred  voices,  better  than  the  roar  of  a 
thousand  wheels,  better  than  the  voice  of  a  million  concerts 
.  .  .  Again  reverie  merged  into  drowsy  absence  of  thought. 
How  exquisite  the  sunshine  was!  .  .  . 

It  fell  upon  her  dark  cheek  this  time  with  a  sharp  sting 
and  bounced  off  on  to  her  hand — a  round  black  stone  dropped 
from  nowhere  but  with  strangely  accurate  aim.  She  sprang 
up  abruptly.  This  was  getting  beyond  a  joke. 

Columbus  was  still  rooting  beneath  the  distant  bush.  Most 
certainly  he  was  not  the  offender.  Some  boy  was  hiding 
somewhere  among  the  humps  and  clefts  that  constituted  the 
rough  surface  of  the  cliff.  She  picked  up  her  walking-stick 
with  a  certain  tightening  of  the  lips.  She  would  teach  that 
boy  a  lesson  if  she  caught  him  unawares. 

Grimly  she  set  her  face  to  the  cliff  and  to  the  narrow, 
winding  passage  by  which  she  had  descended  to  the  shore. 
Her  dreams  were  wholly  scattered !  Her  cheek  still  smarted 
from  the  blow.  She  left  the  sea  without  a  backward  glance. 
She  sent  forth  a  shrill  whistle  to  Columbus  as  she  began  to 


Better  than  London  7 

climb  the  slippery  path  of  stones.  She  was  convinced  that 
it  was  from  this  that  her  assailant  had  gathered  his  weapons. 

With  springing  steps  she  mounted,  looking  sharply  to  right 
and  left  as  she  did  so !  And  in  a  moment,  turning  inwards 
from  the  sea,  she  caught  sight  of  a  movement  among  some 
straggling  bushes  a  few  yards  to  one  side  of  the  path. 

Without  an  instant's  hesitation  she  swung  herself  up  the 
steep  incline,  climbing  with  a  rapidity  that  swiftly  cut  off  the 
landward  line  of  retreat.  She  would  give  her  assailant  a 
fright  for  his  pains  if  nothing  better. 

And  then  just  as  she  reached  the  level,  very  sharply  she 
stopped.  It  was  as  if  a  hand  had  caught  her  back.  For  sud- 
denly there  rose  up  before  her  a  figure  so  strange  that  for  a 
moment  she  felt  almost  like  a  scared  child.  It  sprang  from 
the  bushes  and  stood  facing  her  like  an  animal  at  bay — a 
short  creature  neither  man  nor  boy,  misshapen,  grotesquely 
humped,  possessing  long  thin  arms  of  almost  baboon  like  pro- 
portions. The  head  was  sunken  into  the  shoulders.  It  was 
flung  back  and  the  face  upraised — and  it  was  the  face  that 
made  her  pause,  for  it  was  the  most  pathetic  sight  she  had 
ever  looked  upon.  It  was  the  face  of  a  lad  of  two  or  three 
and  twenty,  but  drawn  in  lines  so  painful,  so  hollowed,  so 
piteous,  that  fear  melted  into  compassion  at  the  sight.  The 
dark  eyes  that  stared  upwards  had  a  frightened  look  mingled 
with  a  certain  defiance.  He  stood  barefooted  on  the  edge 
of  the  cliff,  clenching  and  unclenching  his  bony  hands,  with 
the  air  of  a  culprit  awaiting  sentence. 

There  was  a  decided  pause  before  his  victim  spoke.  She 
found  some  difficulty  in  grappling  with  the  situation,  but  she 
had  no  intention  of  turning  her  back  upon  it.  She  felt  it  must 
be  tackled  with  resolution. 

After  a  moment  she  spoke,  with  as  much  sternness  as  she 
could  muster.  "Why  did  you  throw  those  stones  ?" 


8  The  Obstacle  Race 

He  backed  at  the  sound  of  her  voice,  and  she  had  an  in- 
stant of  sickening  fear,  for  there  was  a  drop  of  twenty  feet 
behind  him  on  the  shingle.  But  he  must  have  seen  her  look,  for 
he  stopped  himself  on  the  brink,  and  stood  there  doggedly. 

"Don't  stand  there !"  she  said  quickly.  "I'm  not  going  to 
hurt  you." 

He  lowered  his  head,  and  looked  at  her  from  under  drawn 
brows.  "Yes,  you  are,"  he  said  gruffly.  "You're  going  to 
beat  me  with  that  stick." 

The  shrewdness  of  this  surmise  struck  her  as  not  without 
humour.  She  smiled,  and  turning  flung  the  stick  straight 
down  to  the  path  below.  "Now !"  she  said. 

He  came  forward,  not  very  willingly,  and  stood  within  a 
couple  of  yards  of  her,  still  looking  as  if  he  expected  some 
sort  of  chastisement. 

She  faced  him,  and  the  last  of  her  fear  departed.  Though 
he  was  so  terribly  deformed  that  he  looked  like  some  dread- 
ful beast  reared  on  its  hind  legs  there  was  that  about  the  face, 
sullen  though  it  was,  that  stirred  her  deepest  feelings. 

She  did  her  best  to  conceal  the  fact,  however.  "Tell  me 
why  you  threw  those  stones !"  she  said. 

"Because  I  wanted  to  hit  you,"  he  returned  with  discon- 
certing promptitude. 

She  looked  at  him  steadily.  "How  very  unkind  of  you !" 
she  said. 

His  eyes  gleamed  with  a  smouldering  resentment.  "No,  it 
wasn't.  I  didn't  want  you  there.  Dicky  is  coming  soon,  and 
he  likes  it  best  when  there  is  no  one  there." 

She  noticed  that  though  there  was  scant  courtesy  in  his 
speech,  it  was  by  no  means  the  rough  talk  of  the  fisher- folk. 
It  fired  her  curiosity.  "And  who  is  Dicky  ?"  she  said. 

"Who  are  you?"  he  retorted  rudely. 

She  smiled  again.     "You  are  not  very  polite,  are  you? 


Better  than  London  9 

But  I  don't  mind  telling  you  if  you  want  to  know.  My  name 
is  Juliet  Moore.  Now  tell  me  yours !" 

He  looked  at  her  doubtfully.  "Juliet  *s  a  name  out  of  a 
book,"  he  said. 

She  laughed,  a  low,  soft  laugh  that  woke  an  answering 
glimmer  of  amusement  in  his  sullen  face.  "How  clever  of 
you  to  know  that !"  she  said. 

"No,  I'm  not  clever."  Tersely  he  contradicted  her.  "Old 
Swag  at  The  Three  Tuns  says  I'm  the  village  idiot." 

"What  a  horrid  old  man !"  she  exclaimed  almost  involun- 
tarily. 

He  nodded  his  heavy  head.  "Yes,  I  knocked  him  down 
the  other  day,  and  kicked  him  for  it.  Dicky  caned  me  after- 
wards,— I'm  not  supposed  to  go  to  The  Three  Tuns — but  I 
was  glad  I'd  done  it  all  the  same." 

"Well,  who  is  Dicky  ?"  she  asked  again.  Her  interest  was 
growing. 

He  glared  at  her  with  sudden  suspicion.  "What  do  you 
want  to  know  for  ?" 

"Because  I  think  he  must  be  rather  a  brave  man,"  she  said. 

The  suspicion  vanished.  His  eyes  shown.  "Oh,  Dicky 
isn't  afraid  of  anything,"  he  declared  with  pride.  "He's  my 
brother.  He  knows — heaps  of  things.  He's  a  man." 

"You  are  fond  of  him,"  said  Juliet,  with  her  friendly  smile. 

The  boy's  face  lighted  up.  "He's  the  only  person  I  love 
in  the  world,"  he  said,  "except  Mrs.  Rickett's  baby." 

"Mrs.  Rickett's  baby!"  She  checked  a  quick  desire  to 
laugh  that  caught  her  anawares.  "You  are  fond  of  babies 
then?" 

"No,  I'm  not.  I  like  dogs.  I  don't  like  babies — except 
Mrs.  Rickett's  and  he's  such  a  jolly  little  cuss."  He  smiled 
over  the  words,  and  again  she  felt  a  deep  compassion.  Some- 
how his  face  seemed  almost  sadder  when  he  smiled. 


io  The  Obstacle  Race 

"I  am  staying  with  Mrs.  Rickett,"  she  said.  "But  I  only 
came  yesterday,  and  I  haven't  made  the  baby's  acquaintance 
yet.  I  must  get  myself  introduced.  You  haven't  told  me 
your  name  yet,  you  know.  Mayn't  I  hear  what  it  is?  I've 
told  you  mine." 

He  looked  at  her  with  renewed  supicion.  "Hasn't  any- 
body told  you  about  me  yet  ?"  he  said. 

"No,  of  course  not.  Why,  I  don't  know  anybody  except 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rickett.  And  it's  much  more  interesting  to 
hear  it  from  yourself." 

"Is  it?"  He  hesitated  a  little  longer,  but  was  finally 
disarmed  by  the  kindness  of  her  smile.  "My  name  is 
Robin." 

"Oh,  that's  a  nice  name,"  Juliet  said.  "And  you  live  here  ? 
What  do  you  do  all  day  ?" 

"I  don't  know,"  he  said  vaguely.  "I  can  mend  fishing 
nets,  and  I  can  help  Dicky  in  the  garden.  And  I  look  after 
Mrs.  Rickett's  baby  sometimes  when  she's  busy.  What  do 
you  do?"  suddenly  resuming  his  attitude  of  suspicion. 

She  made  a  slight  gesture  of  the  hands.  "Nothing  at  all 
worth  doing,  I  am  afraid,"  she  said.  "I  can't  mend  nets.  I 
don't  garden.  And  I've  never  looked  after  a  baby  in  my 
life." 

He  stared  at  her.  "Where  do  you  come  from?"  he  asked 
curiously. 

"From  London."  She  met  his  curiosity  with  absolute  can- 
dour. "And  I'm  tired  of  it.  I'm  very  tired  of  it.  So  I've 
come  here  for  a  change.  I'm  going  to  like  this  much  better." 

"Better  than  London !"    He  gazed,  incredulous. 

"Oh,  much  better."  Juliet  spoke  with  absolute  confidence 
"Ah,  here  is  Columbus !  He  likes  it  better  too." 

She  turned  to  greet  her  companion  who  now  came  hasten- 
ing up  to  view  the  new  acquaintance. 


Better  than  London  11 

He  sniffed  round  Robin  who  bent  awkwardly  and  laid  a 
fondling  hand  upon  him.  "I  like  your  dog,"  he  said. 

"That's  right,"  said  Juliet  kindly.  "We  are  both  staying 
at  the  Ricketts',  so  when  you  come  to  see  the  baby,  I  hope 
you  will  come  to  see  us  too.  I  must  go  now,  or  I  shall  be  late 
for  lunch.  Good-bye !" 

The  boy  lifted  himself  again  with  a  slow,  ungainly 
movement,  and  raised  a  hand  to  his  forehead  in  wholly  unex- 
pected salute. 

She  smiled  and  turned  to  depart,  but  he  spoke  again,  ar- 
resting her. 

"I  say!" 

She  looked  back.    "Yes?    What  is  it?" 

He  shuffled  his  bare  feet  in  the  grass  in  embarrassment  and 
murmured  something  she  could  not  hear. 

"What  is  it  ?"  she  said  again,  encouragingly,  as  if  she  were 
addressing  a  shy  child. 

He  lifted  his  dark  eyes  to  hers  in  sudden  appeal.  "I  say," 
he  said,  with  obvious  effort,  "if — if  you  meet  Dicky,  you — 
you  won't  tell  him  about — about — " 

She  checked  the  struggling  words  with  a  very  kindly  ges- 
ture. "Oh,  no,  of  course  not !  I'm  not  that  sort  of  person. 
But  the  next  time  you  want  to  get  rid  of  me,  just  come  and 
tell  me  so,  and  I'll  go  away  at  once." 

The  gentleness  of  her  speech  uttered  in  that  soft  slow 
voice  of  hers  had  a  curious  effect  upon  her  hearer.  To  her 
surprise,  his  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"I  shan't  want  to  get  rid  of  you!  You're  kind!  I  like 
you !"  he  blurted  forth. 

"Oh,  thank  you  very  much!"  said  Juliet,  feeling  oddly 
moved  herself.  "In  that  case,  we  are  friends.  Good-bye! 
Come  and  see  me  soon !" 

She  smiled  upon  him,  and  departed,  picking  up  her  stick 


12  The  Obstacle  Race 

from  the  path  and  turning  to  wave  to  him  as  she  continued 
the  ascent. 

From  the  top  of  the  cliff  she  looked  back,  and  saw  that  he 
was  still  standing — a  squat,  fantastic  figure  like  a  goblin  out 
of  a  fairy-tale — outlined  against  the  shining  sea  behind  him. 
a  blot  upon  the  blue. 

Again  she  waved  to  him  and  he  lifted  one  of  his  long  arms 
and  saluted  her  again  in  answer — stood  at  the  salute  till  she 
turned  away. 

"Poor  boy!"  she  murmured  compassionately.  "Poor 
ruined  child !  Columbus,  we  must  be  kind  to  him." 

And  Columbus  looked  up  with  knowing  little  eyes  and 
wagged  a  smiling  tail.  He  had  taken  to  the  lad  himself. 


CHAPTER  II 

SACRIFICE 

'  bless  you !"  said  Mrs.  Rickett.  "There's  some  folks 
as  thinks  young  Robin  is  the  plague  of  the  neighbourhood, 
but  there  ain't  no  harm  in  the  lad  if  he's  let  alone.  It's  when 
them  little  varmints  of  village  boys,  sets  on  to  him  and  teases 
him  as  he  ain't  safe.  But  let  him  be,  and  he's  as  quiet  as  a 
lamb.  O'  course  if  they  great  hulking  fools  on  the  shore  goes 
and  takes  him  into  The  Three  Tuns,  you  can't  expect  him 
to  behave  respectable.  But  as  I  always  says,  let  him  alone 
and  there's  no  vice  in  him.  Why,  I've  seen  him  go  away  into 
a  corner  and  cry  like  a  baby  at  a  sharp  word  from  his  brother 
Dick.  He  sets  such  store  by  him." 

"I  noticed  that,"  said  Juliet.  "In  fact  he  told  me  that 
Dicky  and  your  baby  were  the  only  two  people  in  the  world 
that  he  !oved." 

"Did  he  now?  Well,  did  you  ever?"  Mrs.  Rickett's 
weather-beaten  countenance  softened  as  it  were  in  spite  of 
itself.  "He  always  did  take  to  my  Freddy,  right  from  the 
very  first.  And  Freddy's  just  the  same.  Soon  as  ever  he 
catches  sight  of  Robin,  he's  all  in  a  fever  like  to  get  to  him. 
Mr.  Fielding  from  the  Court,  he  were  in  here  the  other  day 
and  he  see  'em  together.  'Your  baby's  got  funny  taste,  Mrs. 
Rickett,'  he  says  and  laughs.  And  I  says  to  him,  'There's  a 
many  worse  than  poor  young  Robin,  sir,'  I  says.  'And  in 
our  own  village  too.'  You  see,  Mr.  Fielding  he's  one  of  them 

13 


14  The  Obstacle  Race 

gentlemen  as  likes  to  have  the  managing  of  other  folks'  af- 
fairs and  he's  always  been  on  to  Dick  to  have  poor  Robin 
put  away.  But  Dick  won't  hear  of  it,  and  I  don't  blame 
him.  For,  as  I  say,  there's  no  harm  in  the  lad  if  he's  treated 
proper,  and  he'd  break  his  heart  if  they  was  to  send  him 
away.  And  he's  that  devoted  to  Dick  too — well,  there  it  fair 
makes  me  cry  sometimes  to  see  him.  He'll  sit  and  wait  for 
him  by  the  hour  together,  like  a  dog  he  will." 

"Was  he  born  like  that?"  asked  Juliet,  as  her  informant 
paused  for  breath. 

Mrs.  Rickett  pursed  her  lips.  "Well  you  see,  miss,  he 
were  a  twin,  and  he  never  did  thrive  from  the  very  earliest. 
But  he  wasn't  a  hunchback,  not  like  he  is  now,  at  first.  The 
poor  mother  died  when  they  was  born,  and  p'raps  it  were  a 
good  thing,  for  she'd  have  grieved  terrible  if  she  could  have 
seen  what  he  were  a-going  to  grow  into.  For  she  was  a  lady 
born  and  bred,  married  beneath  her,  you  know.  Nor  she 
didn't  have  any  such  life  of  it  either.  He  were  a  sea-captain 
— a  funny,  Frenchy-looking  fellow  with  a  frightful  temper. 
He  never  come  home  for  twelve  years  after  Dick  were  born. 
She  used  to  teach  at  the  village-school,  and  make  her  living 
that  way.  Very  sweet  in  her  ways  she  were.  Everyone  liked 
her.  There's  them  as  says  Mr.  Fielding  was  in  love  with  her. 
He  didn't  marry,  you  know,  till  long  after.  She  used  to  sing 
too,  and  such  a  pretty  voice  she'd  got.  I  used  to  think  she 
was  like  an  angel  when  I  was  a  child.  And  so  she  were. 
Whether  she'd  have  married  Mr.  Fielding  or  not  I  don't 
know.  There's  some  as  thinks  she  would.  They  were  very 
friendly  together.  And  then,  quite  sudden-like,  when  every- 
one thought  he'd  been  dead  for  years,  her  husband  come 
home  again.  I'll  never  forget  it  if  I  lives  to  be  a  hundred.  I 
was  only  a  bit  of  a  girl  then.  It's  more'n  twenty  years  ago,  you 
know,  miss.  I  were  just  tidying  up  a  bit  in  the  school-house 


The  Sacrifice  15 

after  school  were  over,  and  she  were  looking  at  some  copy- 
books, when  suddenly  he  marched  in  at  the  door,  and,  'Hullo, 
Olive !'  he  says.  She  got  up,  and  she  was  as  white  as  a  sheet. 
She  didn't  say  one  word.  And  he  just  come  up  to  her,  and 
took  hold  of  her  and  kissed  her  and  kissed  her.  It  was  horrid 
to  see  him,  fair  turned  me  up,"  said  Mrs.  Rickett  graphically. 
"And  I'll  never  forget  her  face  when  he  let  her  go.  She 
looked  as  if  she'd  had  her  death  blow.  And  so  she  had,  miss. 
For  she  was  never  the  same  again.  The  man  was  a  beast,  as 
anyone  could  see,  and  he  hadn't  improved  in  them  twelve 
years.  He  were  a  hard  drinker,  and  he  used  to  torment  her 
to  drink  with  him,  used  to  knock  young  Dick  about  too, 
something  cruel.  Dick  were  only  a  lad  of  twelve,  but  he  says 
to  me  once,  I'll  kill  that  man/  he  says.  Til  kill  him/  Mr. 
Fielding  he  went  abroad  as  soon  as  the  husband  turned  up, 
and  he  didn't  know  what  goings-on  there  were.  There's 
some  as  says  she  made  him  go,  and  I  shouldn't  wonder  but 
what  there  was  something  in  it.  For  if  ever  any  poor  soul 
suffered  martyrdom,  it  was  that  woman.  I'll  never  forget 
the  change  in  her,  never  as  long  as  I  live.  She  kept  up  for 
a  long  time,  but  she  looked  awful,  and  then  at  last  when  her 
time  drew  near  she  broke  down  and  used  to  cry  and  cry  when 
anyone  spoke  to  her.  O'  course  we  all  knew  as  she  wouldn't 
get  over  it.  Her  spirit  was  quite  broke,  and  when  the  babies 
came  she  hadn't  a  chance.  It  happened  very  quick  at  the 
last,  and  her  husband  weren't  there.  He  were  down  at  The 
Three  Tuns,  and  when  they  went  to  fetch  him  he  laughed  in 
their  faces  and  went  on  drinking.  Oh,  it  was  cruel."  Mrs. 
Rickett  wiped  away  some  indignant  tears.  "Not  as  she 
wanted  him — never  even  mentioned  his  name.  She  only 
asked  for  Dick,  and  he  was  with  her  just  at  the  end.  He  was 
only  a  lad  of  thirteen,  miss,  but  he  was  a  man  grown  from 
that  night  on.  She  begged  him  to  look  after  the  babies,  and 


16  The  Obstacle  Race 

he  promised  her  he  would.  And  then  she  just  lay  holding  his 
hand  till  she  died.  He  seemed  dazed-like  when  they  told  him 
she  were  gone,  and  just  went  straight  out  without  a  word. 
No  one  ever  saw  young  Dick  break  down  after  that.  He's 
got  a  will  like  steel." 

"And  the  horrible  husband  ?"  asked  Juliet,  now  thoroughly 
interested  in  Mrs.  Rickett's  favourite  tragedy. 

"I  were  coming  to  him,"  said  Mrs.  Rickett,  with  obvious 
relish.  "The  husband  stayed  at  The  Three  Tuns  till  closing 
time,  then  he  went  out  roaring  drunk,  took  the  cliff -path  by 
mistake,  and  went  over  the  cliff  in  the  dark.  The  tide  was 
up,  and  he  was  drowned.  And  a  great  pity  it  didn't  happen 
a  little  bit  sooner,  says  I !  The  nasty  coarse  hulking  brute ! 
I'd  have  learned  him  a  thing  or  two  if  he'd  belonged  to  me." 
Again,  vindictively,  Mrs.  Rickett  wiped  her  eyes.  "Believe 
me,  miss,  there's  no  martyrdom  so  bad  as  getting  married  to 
the  wrong  man.  I've  seen  it  once  and  again,  and  I  knows." 

"I  quite  agree  with  you,"  said  Juliet.  "But  tell  me  some 
more !  Who  took  the  poor  babies  ?" 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Cross  at  the  lodge  took  them.  Mr.  Fielding 
provided  for  'em,  and  he  helped  young  Dick  along  too.  He's 
been  very  good  to  them  always.  He  had  young  Jack  trained, 
and  now  he's  his  chauffeur  and  making  a  very  good  living. 
The  worst  of  Jack  is,  he  ain't  over  steady,  got  too  much  of 
his  father  in  him  to  please  me.  He's  always  after  some  girl— r 
two  or  three  at  a  time  sometimes.  No  harm  in  the  lad,  I 
daresay.  But  he's  wild,  you  know.  Dick  finds  him  rather  a 
handful  very  often.  Robin  can't  abide  him,  which  perhaps 
isn't  much  to  be  wondered  at,  seeing  as  it  was  mostly  Jack's 
fault  that  he  is  such  a  poor  cripple.  He  was  always  sickly. 
It's  often  the  way  with  twins,  you  know.  All  the  strength 
goes  to  one.  But  he  always  had  to  do  what  Jack  did  as  a 
little  one,  and  Jack  led  him  into  all  sorts  of  mischief,  till  one 


Sacrifice  17 

day  when  they  were  about  ten  they  went  off  birds-nesting 
along  the  cliffs  High  Shale  Point  way,  and  only  Jack  come 
back  late  at  night  to  say  his  brother  had  gone  over  the  cliff. 
Dick  tore  off  with  some  of  the  chaps  from  the  shore.  It 
were  dark  and  windy,  and  they  all  said  it  was  no  use,  but 
Dick  insisted  upon  going  down  the  face  of  the  cliff  on  a  rope 
to  find  him.  And  find  him  at  last  he  did  on  a  ledge  about  a 
hundred  feet  down.  He  was  so  badly  hurt  that  he  thought 
he'd  broke  his  back,  and  he  didn't  dare  move  him  till  morn- 
ing, but  just  stayed  there  with  him  all  night  long.  Oh,  it 
was  a  dreadful  business."  A  large  tear  splashed  unchecked 
on  to  Mrs.  Rickett's  apron.  "An  ill-fated  family,  as  you 
might  say.  They  got  'em  up  in  the  morning  o'  course,  but 
poor  little  Robin  was  very  bad.  He  was  on  his  back  for 
nearly  a  year  after,  and  then,  when  he  began  to  get  about 
again,  them  humps  came  and  he  grew  crooked.  Mr.  Fielding 
were  away  at  the  time,  hunting  somewhere  in  the  wilds  of 
Africa,  and  when  he  came  home  he  were  shocked  to  see  the 
lad.  He  had  the  very  best  doctors  in  the  land  to  see  him, 
but  they  all  said  there  was  nothing  to  be  done.  The  spine 
had  got  twisted,  or  something  of  that  nature,  and  he'd  begun 
to  have  queer  giddy  fits  too  as  made  'em  say  the  brain  were 
affected,  which  it  really  weren't,  miss,  for  he's  as  sane  as 
you  or  me,  only  simple  you  know,  just  a  bit  simple.  They 
said,  all  of  'em,  as  how  he'd  never  live  to  grow  up.  He'd 
get  them  abscies  at  the  base  of  the  skull,  and  they'd  reach 
his  brain  and  he'd  go  raving  mad  and  die.  And  the  squire — 
that's  Mr.  Fielding — was  all  for  putting  him  away  there  and 
then.  But  Dick,  he'd  nursed  him  all  through,  and  he  wouldn't 
hear  of  it.  'The  boy's  mine,'  he  says,  'and  I'm  going  to  look 
after  him.'  Mr.  Fielding  was  very  cross  with  him,  but  that 
didn't  make  no  difference.  You  see,  Dick  had  got  fond  of 
him,  and  as  for  Robin,  why,  he  just  worshipped  Dick.  So 


i8  The  Obstacle  Race 

there  it  was  left,  and  Dick  gave  up  all  his  prospects  to  keep 
the  boy  with  him.  He  were  reading  for  the  law,  you  see,  but 
he  gave  it  all  up  and  turned  schoolmaster,  so  as  he  could  live 
here  and  take  care  of  young  Robin." 

"Turned  schoolmaster !"  Juliet  repeated  the  words.  "He's 
something  of  a  scholar  then !" 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Mrs.  Rickett.  "It's  only  the  village  school, 
miss.  Mr.  Fielding  got  him  the  post.  They're  an  unruly 
set  of  varmints  here,  but  he  keeps  order  among  'em.  He's 
quite  clever,  as  you  might  say,  but  no,  he  ain't  a  scholard. 
He  goes  in  for  games,  you  know,  football  and  the  like,  tries  to 
teach  'em  to  play  like  gentlemen,  which  he  never  will,  for 
they're  a  low  lot  them  shore  people,  and  that  dirty !  Well, 
he  makes  'em  bathe  every  day  in  the  summer  whether  they 
likes  it  or  whether  they  don't.  Oh,  he  does  his  best  to  civi- 
lize 'em,  and  all  them  fisher  chaps  thinks  a  deal  of  him  too. 
They've  got  a  club  in  the  village  what  Mr.  Fielding  built  for 
'em,  and  he  goes  along  there  and  gives  'em  musical  evenings 
and  jollies  'em  generally.  They'll  do  anything  for  him,  bless 
you.  But  he  tells  'em  off,  pretty  straight  sometimes.  They'll 
take  it  from  him,  you  see,  because  they  respects  him." 

"I  thought  the  parson  always  did  that  sort  of  thing,"  said 
Juliet. 

Mrs.  Rickett  uttered  a  brief,  expressive  snort.  "He  ain't 
much  use — except  for  the  church.  He's  old,  you  see,  and  he 
don't  understand  'em.  And  he's  scared  at  them  chaps  what 
works  the  lead  mines  over  at  High  Shale.  It's  all  in  this 
parish,  you  know.  And  they  are  a  horrid  rough  lot,  a  deal 
worse  than  the  fisher-folk.  But  Dick  he  don't  mind  'em. 
And  he  can  do  anything  with  'em  too,  plays  his  banjo  and 
sings  and  makes  'em  laugh.  The  mines  belong  to  the  Far- 
ringmore  family,  you  know — Lord  Wilchester  owns  'em. 
But  he  never  comes  near,  and  o'  course  the  men  gets  dis- 


Sacrifice  19 

contented  and  difficult.  And  they're  a  nasty  drinking  lot 
too.  Why,  the  manager — that's  Mr.  Ashcott — he's  at  his 
wit's  end  sometimes.  But  Dick— oh,  Dick  can  always  handle 
'em,  knows  'em  inside  and  out,  and  their  wives  too.  Yes,  he's 
very  clever  is  Dick.  But  he's  thrown  away  in  this  place.  It's 
a  pity,  you  know.  If  it  weren't  for  Robin,  it's  my  belief  that 
he'd  be  a  great  man.  He's  a  born  leader.  But  he's  never 
had  a  chance,  and  it  don't  look  like  as  if  he  ever  will  now, 
poor  fellow !" 

Mrs.  Rickett  ended  mournfully  and  picked  up  Juliet's 
empty  plate. 

"How  old  is  he?"  asked  Juliet. 

"Oh,  he's  a  lot  past  thirty  now,  getting  too  old  to  turn  his 
hand  to  anything  new.  Mr.  Fielding  he's  always  on  to  him 
about  it,  but  it  don't  make  no  difference.  He'll  never  take 
up  any  other  work  while  Robin  lives.  And  Robin  is  stronger 
nor  what  he  used  to  be,  all  thanks  to  Dick's  care.  He's  just 
sacrificed  everything  to  that  boy,  you  know.  It  don't  seem 
hardly  right,  do  it  ?" 

"I  don't  know,"  Juliet  said  slowly.  "Some  sacrifices  are 
worth  while." 

Mrs.  Rickett  looked  a  little  puzzled.  There  was  some- 
thing about  this  young  lodger  of  hers  that  she  could  not 
quite  fathom,  but  since  she  'liked  the  looks  of  her'  she  did 
not  regard  this  fact  as  a  serious  drawback. 

"Well,  there's  some  folks  as  thinks  one  way  and  some 
another,"  she  conceded.  "My  husband  always  says  as  there's 
quite  a  lot  of  good  in  Robin  if  he's  treated  decent.  He's 
often  round  here  at  the  forge.  That's  how  he  come  to  get  so 
fond  of  my  Freddy.  You  ain't  seen  Freddy  yet,  miss.  He's 
a  bit  shy  like  with  strangers,  but  he  soon  gets  over  it." 

"You  must  bring  him  in  to  see  me,"  said  Juliet. 

Mrs.  Rickett  beamed.    "I  will,  miss,  I  will.    I'll  bring  him 


20  The  Obstacle  Race 

in  with  the  pudding.  P'raps  if  you  was  to  give  him  a  little 
bit  he  wouldn't  be  shy.  He's  very  fond  of  gingerbread  pud- 
ding." 

"I  wish  I  were !"  sighed  Juliet,  as  her  landlady's  portly 
form  disappeared.  "I  shall  certainly  have  to  have  a  cigarette 
after  it,  and  then  there  will  only  be  one  left !  Oh  dear,  why 
was  I  brought  up  among  the  flesh-pots  ?"  She  broke  off  with 
a  sudden  irresistible  laugh,  and  rising  went  to  the  window. 
Someone  was  sauntering  down  the  road  on  the  other  side  of 
the  high  privet  hedge.  There  came  to  her  a  whiff  of  cigar- 
ette-smoke wafted  on  the  sea-breeze.  She  leaned  forth,  and 
at  the  gap  by  the  gate  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  trim  young  man 
in  blue  serge  wearing  a  white  linen  hat.  She  scarcely  saw 
his  face  as  he  passed,  but  she  had  a  fleeting  vision  of  the 
cigarette. 

"I  wonder  where  you  get  them  from,"  she  murmured  wist- 
fully. "I  believe  I  could  get  to  like  that  brand,  and  they 
can't  be  as  expensive  as  mine." 

The  door  opened  behind  her,  and  she  turned  back  smiling 
to  greet  the  ginger  pudding  and  Freddy. 


CHAPTER  III 

MAGIC 

THE  scent  of  the  gorse  in  the  evening  dew  was  as  incense 
offered  to  the  stars.  To  Juliet,  wandering  forth  in  the  twi- 
light after  supper  with  Columbus,  the  exquisite  fragrance 
was  almost  intoxicating.  It  seemed  to  drug  the  senses.  She 
went  along  the  path  at  the  top  of  the  cliff  as  one  in  a  dream. 

The  sea  was  like  a  dream-sea  also,  silver  under  the  stars, 
barely  rippling  against  the  shingle,  immensely  and  myste- 
riously calm.  She  went  on  and  on,  scarcely  feeling  the 
ground  beneath  her  feet,  moving  through  an  atmosphere 
of  pure  magic,  all  her  pulses  thrilling  to  the  wonder  of  the 
night. 

Suddenly,  from  somewhere  not  far  distant  among  the 
gorse  bushes,  there  came  a  sound.  She  stopped,  and  it 
seemed  to  her  that  all  the  world  stopped  with  her  to  hear 
the  first  soft  trill  of  a  nightingale  through  the  tender 
dusk.  It  went  into  silence,  but  it  left  her  heart  throbbing 
strangely.  Surely — surely  there  was  magic  all  around  her! 
That  bird-voice  in  the  silence  thrilled  her  through  and 
through.  She  stood  spell-bound,  waiting  for  the  enchanted 
music  to  fill  her  soul.  There  followed  a  few  liquid  notes, 
and  then  there  came  a  far-off,  flute-like  call,  gradually 
swelling,  gradually  drawing  nearer,  so  pure,  so  wild,  so  full 
of  ecstasy,  that  she  almost  felt  as  if  it  were  more  than  she 
could  bear.  It  broke  at  last  in  a  crystal  shower  of  song, 

21 


22  The  Obstacle  Race 

and  she  turned  and  looked  out  over  the  glittering  sea  and 
asked  herself  if  it  could  be  real.  It  was  as  if  a  spirit  had 
called  to  her  out  of  the  summer  night. 

Then  Columbus  came  careering  along  the  path  in 
fevered  search  of  her,  and  quite  suddenly,  like  the  closing 
of  a  lid,  the  magic  sounds  vanished  into  a  deep  silence. 

"Oh,  Columbus!"  his  mistress  murmured  reproachfully. 
"You've  stopped  the  music!" 

Columbus  responded  by  planting  his  paws  against  her,  and 
giving  her  a  vigorous  push.  There  was  decidedly  more  of 
common  sense  than  poetry  in  his  composition.  The  passion 
for  exploring  which  had  earned  him  his  name  was  his 
main  characteristic,  and  he  wanted  to  get  as  far  as  possible 
before  the  time  arrived  to  turn  back. 

She  yielded  to  his  persuasion,  and  walked  on  up  the  path 
with  her  face  to  the  shimmering  sea.  For  some  reason  she 
felt  divinely  happy,  as  if  she  had  drunk  of  the  wine  of  the 
gods.  It  had  been  so  wonderful — that  song  of  starlight  and 
of  Spring. 

It  was  very  warm,  and  she  wore  neither  hat  nor  wrap. 
If  she  had  come  out  in  a  bathing-dress,  no  one  would  have 
known,  she  reflected.  But  in  this  she  was  wrong,  for 
presently,  as  she  sauntered  along,  she  became  aware  of  a 
faint  scent  other  than  the  wonderful  cocoa-nut  perfume 
of  the  gorse  bushes — a  scent  that  made  her  aware  of  the 
presence  of  another  human  being  in  that  magic  place. 

She  looked  about  for  him  with  a  faint  smile  on  her  lips, 
but  the  cliff-path  ran  empty  before  her,  ascending  in  a 
series  of  fairly  stiff  climbs  to  the  brow  of  High  Shale  Point. 
Columbus  hurried  along  ahead  of  her  as  if  he  had  made  up 
his  mind  to  reach  the  top  at  all  costs.  But  Juliet  had  no  in- 
tention of  motuiting  to  the  summit  of  the  frowning  cliff  that 
night.  She  had  a  vagrant  desire  to  track  that  elusive  scent, 


Magic  23 

but  even  that,  it  seemed  was  not  to  be  satisfied,  and  at  length 
she  stopped  again  and  sent  a  summoning  whistle  after 
Columbus. 

It  was  almost  at  the  same  moment  that  there  came  from 
behind  her  a  sound  that  shattered  all  the  fairy  romance  of 
the  night  at  a  blow.  She  turned  sharply,  and  immediately, 
like  a  fiendish  chorus,  it  came  again  spreading  and  echoing 
along  the  cliffs — the  yelling  of  drunken  laughter. 

Several  men  were  coming  along  the  path  that  she  had 
travelled.  She  saw  them  vaguely  in  the  dimness  a  little  way 
below  her,  and  realized  that  her  retreat  in  that  direction  was 
cut  off.  Swiftly  she  considered  the  position,  for  there  was 
no  time  to  be  lost.  To  pursue  the  path  would  be  to  go  far- 
ther and  farther  away  from  the  village  and  civilization,  but 
for  the  moment  she  saw  no  other  course.  On  one  hand  the 
gorse  bushes  made  a  practically  impenetrable  rampart,  and 
on  the  other  the  cliff  overhung  the  shore  which  at  that  point 
was  nearly  two  hundred  feet  below.  From  where  she  stood, 
no  way  of  escape  presented  itself,  and  she  turned  in  despair 
to  follow  the  path  a  little  farther.  But  as  she  did  so,  she 
heard  another  wild  shout  from  behind  her,  and  it  flashed 
upon  her  with  a  stab  of  dismay  that  her  light  dress  had  be- 
trayed her.  She  had  been  sighted  by  the  intruders,  and  they 
were  pursuing  her.  She  heard  the  stamp  and  scuffle  of  run- 
ning feet  that  were  not  too  sure  of  their  stability,  and  with  the 
sound  something  very  like  panic  entered  into  Juliet.  Her 
heart  jolted  within  her,  and  the  impulse  to  flee  like  a  hunted 
hare  was  for  a  second  almost  too  urgent  to  be  withstood. 
That  she  did  withstand  it  was  a  matter  for  life-long  thank- 
fulness in  her  estimation.  The  temptation  was  great,  but 
she  did  not  spring  from  the  stock  that  runs  away.  She  pulled 
herself  up  sharply  with  burning  cheeks,  and  deliberately 
turned  and  waited. 


24  The  Obstacle  Race 

They  came  up  the  path,  yelling  like  hounds  on  a  scent, 
while  she  stood  perfectly  erect  and  motionless,  facing  them. 
There  were  five  of  them,  hulking  youths  all  inflamed  by  drink 
if  not  actually  tipsy,  and  they  came  around  her  with  shouts 
of  idiotic  laughter  and  incoherent  joking,  evidently  taking 
her  for  a  village  girl. 

She  stood  her  ground  with  her  back  to  the  cliff -edge,  not 
yielding  an  inch,  contempt  in  every  line.  "Will  you  kindly  go 
your  way,"  she  said,  "and  allow  me  to  go  mine  ?" 

They  responded  with  yells  of  derision,  and  one  young  man, 
emboldened  by  the  jeers  of  his  companions,  came  close  to  her 
and  leered  into  her  face  of  rigid  disdain.  "I'm  damned  if 
I  won't  have  a  kiss  first !"  he  swore,  and  flung  a  rough  arm 
about  her. 

Juliet  moved  then  with  the  fierce  suddenness  of  a  wild 
thing  trapped.  She  wrenched  herself  from  him  in  furious 
disgust. 

"You  hound !"  she  began  to  say.  But  the  word  was  never 
fully  uttered,  for  as  it  sprang  to  her  lips,  it  went  into  a  des- 
perate cry.  The  ground  had  given  way  beneath  her  feet,  and 
she  fell  straight  backwards  over  that  awful  edge.  For  the 
fraction  of  an  instant  she  saw  the  stars  in  the  deep  blue  sky 
above  her,  then,  like  the  snap  of  a  spring,  they  vanished  into 
darkness  .  .  . 

It  was  a  darkness  that  spread  and  spread  like  an  endless 
sea,  submerging  all  things.  No  light  could  penetrate  it ;  only 
a  few  vague  sounds  and  impressions  somehow  filtered 
through.  And  then — how  it  happened  she  had  not  the  faint- 
est notion — she  was  aware  of  someone  lifting  herjout  of  the 
depth  that  had  received  her,  and  there  came  again  to  her 
nostrils  that  subtle  aroma  of  cigarette-smoke  that  had  min- 
gled with  the  scent  of  the  gorse.  She  came  to  herself  gasp- 
ing, but  for  some  reason  she  dared  not  look  up.  That  single 


Magic  25 

glimpse  of  the  wheeling  universe  seemed  to  have  sealed  her 
vision. 

Then  a  voice  spoke.  "I  say,  do  open  your  eyes,  if  you 
don't  mind.  You're  really  not  dead.  You've  only  had  a 
tumble." 

That  voice  awoke  her  quite  effectually.  The  mixture  of 
entreaty  and  common  sense  it  contained  strangely  stirred  her 
curiosity.  She  opened  her  eyes  wide  upon  the  speaker. 

"Hullo !"  she  said  faintly. 

He  was  kneeling  by  her  side,  looking  closely  into  her  face, 
and  the  first  thing  that  struck  her  was  the  extreme  brightness 
of  his  eyes.  They  shone  like  black  onyx. 

He  responded  at  once,  his  voice  very  low  and  rapid.  "It's 
perfectly  all  right.  You  needn't  be  afraid.  I  was  just  in  time 
to  catch  you.  There's  an  easier  way  down  close  by,  but  you 
wouldn't  see  it  in  this  light.  Feeling  better  now !  Like  to  sit 
up?" 

She  awoke  to  the  fact  that  she  was  propped  against  his 
knee.  She  sat  up,  still  gasping  a  little,  but  shrank  as  she 
realized  the  narrowness  of  the  ledge  upon  which  she  was 
resting. 

He  thrust  out  a  protecting  arm  in  front  of  her.  "It's  all 
right.  You're  absolutely  safe.  Don't  shiver  like  that !  You 
couldn't  go  over  if  you  tried.  Don't  look  if  it  makes  you 
giddy !" 

She  looked  again  into  his  face,  and  again  was  struck  by 
the  amazing  keenness  of  his  eyes. 

"How  did  you  get  here?"  she  said. 

"Oh,  it's  easy  enough  when  you  know  the  way.  I  was  just 
coming  to  help  you  when  you  came  over.  You  didn't  hear 
me  shout?" 

"No.  They  were  all  making  such  a  horrid  noise."  She 
suppressed  a  shudder.  "Have  they  gone  now  ?" 


26  The  Obstacle  Race 

"Yes,  the  brutes!  They  scooted.  I'm  going  after  them 
directly." 

"Oh,  please  don't!"  she  said  hastily.  "Not  for  the  world! 
I  don't  want  to  be  left  alone  here.  I've  had  enough  of  it." 

She  tried  to  smile  with  the  words,  but  it  was  rather  a 
trembling  attempt.  He  abandoned  his  intention  at  once. 

"All  right.  It'll  keep.  Look  here,  shall  I  help  you  up? 
You'll  feel  better  on  the  top." 

"I  think  I  had  better  stay  here  for  a  minute,"  Juliet  said. 
"I — I'm  afraid  I  shall  make  an  idiot  of  myself  if  I  don't." 

"No,  you  won't.  You'll  be  all  right."  He  thrust  an  abrupt 
arm  around  her  shoulders,  gripping  them  hard  to  still  her 
trembling.  "Lean  against  me !  I've  got  you  quite  safe." 

She  relaxed  with  a  mummur  of  thanks.  There  was  some- 
thing intensely  reassuring  about  that  firm  grip.  She  sat  quite 
motionless  for  a  space  with  closed  eyes,  gradually  regaining 
her  self-command. 

In  the  end  a  snufHe  and  whine  from  above  aroused  her. 
She  sat  up  with  a  start. 

"Oh,  Columbus !    Don't  let  him  fall  over !" 

Her  companion  laughed  a  little.  "Let's  get  back  to  him 
then !  Don't  look  down !  Keep  your  face  to  the  cliff !  And 
remember  I've  got  hold  of  you !  You  can't  fall." 

She  struggled  blindly  to  her  feet,  helped  by  his  arm  be- 
hind her ;  but,  though  she  did  not  look  down,  she  was  seized 
immediately  by  an  overwhelming  giddiness  that  made  her  tot- 
ter back  against  him. 

"I'm  dreadfully  sorry,"  she  said,  almost  in  tears.  "I  can't 
help  it.  I'm  an  idiot." 

He  held  her  up  with  unfailing  steadiness.  "All  right! 
All  right!"  he  said.  "Don't  get  frightened!  Move  along 
slowly  with  me !  Keep  your  face  to  the  clitt,  and  you'll  come 
to  some  steps !  That's  the  way !  Yes,  we've  got  to  get  round 


Magic  27 

that  jutting  out  bit.  It's  perfectly  safe.  Keep  your  head! 
It's  quite  easy  on  the  other  side." 

It  might  be  perfectly  safe  for  a  practised  climber,  but 
Juliet's  heart  was  in  her  mouth  when  she  reached  the  pro- 
jecting corner  of  cliff  where  the  ledge  narrowed  to  a  bare 
eighteen  inches  and  the  rock  bulged  outwards  as  if  to  push 
off  all  trespassers. 

She  came  to  a  standstill,  clinging  desperately  to  the  unyield- 
ing stone.  "I  can't  possibly  do  it,"  she  said  helplessly. 

"Yes,  you  can.  You've  got  to."  Quick  as  lightning  came 
the  words.  "Go  on  and  don't  be  silly !  Of  course  you  can 
doit!  A  child  could." 

He  loosened  her  clutching  fingers  with  the  words,  and 
pushed  her  onwards.  She  went,  driven  by  a  force  such  as 
she  had  never  encountered  before. 

She  heard  the  soft  wash  of  the  sea  far  below  her  above  the 
sickening  thudding  of  her  heart  as  she  crept  forward  round 
that  terrible  bend.  She  heard  with  an  acuteness  that  made 
her  marvel  the  long  sweet  note  of  the  nightingale  swelling 
among  the  bushes  above.  She  also  heard  a  watch  ticking  with 
amazing  loudness  close  to  her  ear,  and  was  aware  of  a  very 
firm  hand  that  grasped  her  shoulder,  impelling  her  forward. 
There  was  no  resisting  that  steady  pressure.  She  crept  on 
step  by  step  because  she  could  not  do  otherwise;  and  when 
she  had  rounded  that  awful  corner  at  last  and  would  fain 
have  stopped  to  rest  after  the  ordeal,  she  found  that  she  must 
needs  go  on,  for  he  would  not  suffer  any  pause. 

He  had  followed  her  so  closely  that  his  hold  upon  her  had 
never  varied.  There  seemed  to  her  to  be  something  electric 
in  the  very  touch  of  his  fingers.  She  was  fully  conscious  of 
the  fact  that  she  moved  by  a  strength  outside  her  own. 

"Go  on!"  he  said.  "Go  on!  There's  Columbus  waiting 
for  you.  Can  you  see  the  steps?  They're  close  here. 


28  The  Obstacle  Race 

They're  a  bit  rough,  I'm  afraid.  I  made  them  myself.  But 
you'll  manage  them." 

She  came  to  the  steps.  The  path  had  widened  somewhat, 
and  the  dreadful  sense  of  sheer  depth  below  her  was  less  in- 
sistent. Nevertheless,  the  way  was  far  from  easy,  the  steps 
being  little  more  than  deep  notches  in  the  cliff.  It  slanted 
inwards  here  however,  and  she  set  herself  to  achieve  the 
ascent  with  more  assurance. 

Her  guide  came  immediately  behind  her.  She  felt  his  hand 
touch  her  at  every  step  she  took.  Just  at  the  last,  realizing 
the  nearness  of  the  summit  and  safety,  she  tried  to  hasten, 
and  in  a  moment  slipped.  He  grabbed  her  instantly,  but  she 
could  not  recover  her  footing  though  she  made  a  frantic 
effort  to  do  so.  She  sprawled  against  the  cliff,  clutching 
madly  at  some  tufts  of  grass  and  weed  above  her,  while  the 
man  behind  her  gripped  and  held  her  there. 

"Don't  struggle !"  he  said.  "You're  all  right.  You  won't 
fall.  Let  go  of  that  stuff  and  hang  on  to  me !" 

"I  can't!"  she  said.    "I  can't!" 

"Let  go  of  that  stuff  and  hang  on  to  me!"  he  said  again, 
and  the  words  were  short  and  sharp.  "Left  hand  first !  Put 
your  arm  round  my  neck,  and  then  get  round  and  hang  on 
with  the  other !  It's  only  a  few  feet  more.  I  can  manage  it." 

They  were  the  most  definite  instructions  she  had  ever  re- 
ceived in  her  life,  and  the  most  difficult  to  obey.  She  hung, 
clinging  with  both  hands,  still  vainly  seeking  a  foothold,  des- 
perately afraid  to  relinquish  her  hold  and  trust  herself  unre- 
servedly to  his  single-handed  strength.  But,  as  he  waited, 
it  came  to  her  that  it  was  the  only  thing  to  do.  With  a  gasp 
she  freed  one  hand  at  length  and  reaching  back  as  he  held 
her  she  thrust  it  over  his  shoulder. 

"Now  the  other  hand,  please !"  he  said. 

She  did  not  know  how  she  did  it.    It  was  like  loosing  her 


Magic  29 

grip  upon  life  itself.  Yet  after  a  few  seconds  of  torturing 
irresolution  she  obeyed  him,  abandoning  her  last  hold  and 
hanging  to  him  in  palpitating  apprehension. 

He  put  forth  his  full  strength  then.  She  felt  the  strain 
of  his  muscles  as  he  gathered  her  up  with  one  arm.  With 
the  other  hand,  had  she  but  known  it,  he  was  grasping  only 
the  naked  rock.  Yet  he  moved  as  if  absolutely  sure  of  him- 
self. He  drew  a  deep  hard  breath,  and  began  to  mount. 

It  was  only  a  few  feet  to  the  top  as  he  had  said,  but  the 
climb  seemed  to  her  unending.  She  was  conscious  through- 
out that  his  endurance  was  being  put  to  the  utmost  test,  and 
only  by  the  most  complete  passivity  could  she  help  him. 

But  he  never  faltered,  and  finally — just  when  she  had  be- 
gun to  wonder  if  this  awful  nightmare  of  danger  could  ever 
cease — she  found  herself  set  down  upon  the  dewy  grass  that 
covered  the  top  of  the  cliff.  The  scent  of  the  gorse  bushes 
came  again  to  her  and  the  far  sweet  call  of  the  nightingale. 
And  she  realized  that  the  danger  was  past  and  she  was  back 
once  more  in  the  magic  region  of  her  summer  dreams  from 
which  she  had  been  so  rudely  flung.  She  saw  again  the 
shimmering,  wonderful  sea  and  the  ever-brightening  stars. 
One  of  them  hung,  a  golden  globe  of  light  like  a  beacon  on 
the  dim  horizon. 

Then  Columbus  came  pushing  and  nuzzling  against  her, 
full  of  tender  enquiries  and  congratulations ;  and  something 
that  she  did  not  fully  understand  made  her  turn  and  clasp 
him  closely  with  a  sudden  rush  of  tears.  The  danger  was 
over,  all  over.  And  never  till  this  moment  had  she  realized 
how  amazingly  sweet  was  life. 


CHAPTER  IV 

BROTHER  DICK 

SHE  covered  her  emotion  with  the  most  herculean  efforts 
at  gaiety.  She  laughed  very  shakily  at  the  solicitude  ex- 
pressed by  Columbus,  and  told  him  tremulously  how  absurd 
and  ridiculous  he  was  to  make  such  a  fuss  about  nothing. 

After  this,  feeling  a  little  better,  she  ventured  a  glance  at 
her  companion.  He  was  on  his  feet  and  wiping  his  forehead 
— a  man  of  medium  height  and  no  great  breadth  of  shoulder, 
but  evidently  well-knit  and  athletic.  Becoming  by  some 
means  aware  of  her  attention,  he  put  away  his  handkerchief 
and  turned  towards  her.  She  saw  his  eyes  gleam  under  black, 
mobile  brows  that  seemed  to  denote  a  considerable  sense  of 
humour.  The  whole  of  his  face  held  an  astonishing  amount 
of  vitality,  but  the  lips  were  straight  and  rather  hard,  so 
clean-cut  as  to  be  almost  ascetic.  He  looked  to  her  like  a  man 
who  would  suffer  to  the  utmost,  but  never  lose  his  self-con- 
trol. And  she  thought  she  read  a  pride  more  than  ordinary 
in  the  cast  of  his  features — a  man  capable  of  practically 
anything  save  the  asking  or  receiving  of  favours. 

Then  he  spoke,  and  curiously  all  criticism  vanished.  "I  had 
better  introduce  myself,"  he  said.  "I'm  afraid  I've  been  un- 
pardonably  rude.  My  name  is  Green." 

Green!  The  word  darted  at  her  like  an  imp  of  mischief. 
The  romantic  dropped  to  the  prosaic  with  a  suddenness  that 
provoked  in  her  an  almost  irresistible  desire  to  laugh. 

She  controlled  it  swiftly,  but  she  was  fully  aware  that 

30 


Brother  Dick  31 

she  had  not  hidden  it  as  she  rose  to  her  feet  and  offered  her 
hand  to  her  cavalier. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Green  ?  My  name  is  Moore — Miss 
Moore.  Will  you  allow  me  to  thank  you  for  saving  my  life  ?" 

Her  voice  throbbed  a  little ;  tears  and  laughter  were  almost 
equally  near  the  surface  at  that  moment.  She  was  extremely 
disgusted  with  herself  for  her  lack  of  composure. 

Then  again,  as  his  hand  grasped  hers,  she  forgot  to  criti- 
cize. "I  say,  please  don't !"  he  said.  "I  wouldn't  have  missed 
it  for  anything.  It  was  jolly  plucky  of  you  to  stand  your 
ground  with  those  hooligans  from  the  mine." 

"But  I  didn't  stand  my  ground,"  she  pointed  out.  "I  went 
over.  It  was  a  most  undignified  proceeding,  wasn't  it  ?" 

"No,  it  wasn't,"  he  declared.  "You  did  it  awfully  well.  I 
wish  I'd  been  nearer  to  you,  but  I  couldn't  possibly  get  up  in 
time." 

"Oh,  I  think  you  were  more  useful  where  you  were,"  she 
said  "thank  you  all  the  same.  I  must  have  gone  clean  to 
the  bottom  otherwise.  I  thought  I  had." 

She  caught  back  an  involuntary  shudder,  and  in  a  moment 
the  hand  that  held  hers  closed  unceremoniously  and  drew  her 
further  from  the  edge  of  the  cliff. 

"You  are  sure  you  are  none  the  worse,  now?"  he  said. 
"Not  giddy  or  anything?" 

"No,  not  anything,"  she  said. 

But  she  was  glad  of  his  hold  none  the  less,  and  he  seemed 
to  know  it,  for  he  kept  her  hand  firmly  clasped. 

"You  must  let  me  see  you  back,"  he  said.  "Where  are  you 
staying  ?" 

"At  Mrs.  Rickett's,"  she  told  him.  "The  village  smithy, 
you  know." 

"I  know,"  he  said.  "Down  at  Little  Shale,  you  mean. 
You've  come  some  way,  haven't  you  ?" 


32  The  Obstacle  Race 

"It  was  such  a  lovely  night,"  she  said,  "and  Columbus 
wanted  a  walk.  I  got  led  on,  I  didn't  know  I  was  likely  to 
meet  anyone." 

"It's  the  short  cut  to  High  Shale,"  he  said.  "There  is 
always  the  chance  of  meeting  these  fellows  along  here. 
You'd  be  safer  going  the  other  way." 

"But  I  like  the  furze  bushes  and  the  nightingale,"  she  said 
regretfully,  "and  the  exquisite  wildness  of  it.  It  is  not  nearly 
so  nice  the  other  way." 

He  laughed.  "No,  but  it's  safer.  Come  this  way  as  much 
as  you  like  in  the  morning,  but  go  the  other  way  at  night !" 

He  turned  with  the  words,  and  began  to  lead  her  down  the 
path.  She  went  with  him  as  one  who  responds  instinctively 
to  a  power  unquestioned.  The  magic  of  the  night  was  clos- 
ing about  her  again.  She  heard  the  voice  of  the  nightingale 
thrilling  through  the  silence. 

"This  is  the  most  wonderful  place  I  have  ever  seen,"  she 
said  at  last  in  a  tone  cf  awe. 

"Is  it?"  he  said. 

His  lack  of  enthusiasm  surprised  her.  "Don't  you  think 
so  too  ?"  she  said.  "Doesn't  it  seem  wonderful  to  you  ?" 

He  glanced  out  to  sea  for  a  moment.  "You  see  I  live 
here,"  he  said.  "Yes,  it's  quite  a  beautiful  place.  But  it 
isn't  always  like  this.  It's  primitive.  It  can  be  savage.  You 
wouldn't  like  it  always." 

"I'm  thinking  of  settling  down  here  all  the  same,"  said 
Juliet. 

He  stopped  short  in  the  path.    "Are  you  really?" 

She  nodded  with  a  smile.  "You  seem  surprised.  Why 
shouldn't  I?  Isn't  there  room  for  one  more?" 

"Oh,  plenty  of  room,"  he  said,  and  walked  on  again  as 
abruptly  as  he  had  paused. 

The  path  became  wider  and  more  level,  and  he   relin- 


Brother  Dick  33 

quished  her  hand.  "You  won't  stay,"  he  said  with  conviction. 

"I  wonder,"  said  Juliet. 

"Of  course  you  won't !"  A  hint  of  vehemence  crept  into 
his  speech.  "When  the  nightingales  have  left  off  singing, 
and  the  wild  roses  are  over,  you'll  go." 

"You  seem  very  sure  of  that,"  said  Juliet. 

"Yes,  I  am  sure."  He  spoke  uncompromisingly,  almost 
contemptuously,  she  thought. 

"You  evidently  don't  stay  here  because  you  like  it,"  she 
said. 

"My  work  is  here,"  he  returned  noncommittally.  She 
wondered  a  little,  but  something  held  her  back  from  pursuing 
the  matter.  She  walked  several  paces  in  silence.  Then,  "I 
wish  I  could  find  work  here,"  she  said,  in  her  slow  deep  voice. 
"It  would  do  me  a  lot  of  good." 

"Would  it?"  He  turned  towards  her.  "But  that  isn't 
what  you  came  for — not  to  find  work,  I  mean  ?" 

"Well,  no — not  primarily."  She  made  the  admission  al- 
most guiltily.  "But  I  think  everyone  ought  to  be  able  to 
earn  a  livelihood,  don't  you  ?" 

"It's  safer  certainly,"  he  said.  "But  it  isn't  everyone  that 
is  qualified  for  it." 

"No?"  Her  voice  was  whimsical.  "And  you  think  I  shall 
seek  in  vain  for  any  suitable  niche  here?" 

"It  depends  upon  what  your  capabilities  are,"  he  said. 

"My  capabilities!"  She  laughed,  a  soft,  low  laugh. 
"Columbus !  What  are  my  capabilities !" 

They  had  reached  a  railing  and  a  gate  across  the  path  lead- 
ing down  to  the  village.  Columbus,  waiting  to  go  through, 
wriggled  in  a  manner  that  expressed  his  entire  ignorance  on 
the  subject.  Juliet  leaned  against  the  gate  with  her  face  to 
the  western  sky. 

"My  capabilities  !"  she  mused.    "Let  me  see !    What  can  I 

3 


34  The  Obstacle  Race 

do?"  She  looked  at  her  companion  with  a  smile.  "I  am 
afraid  I  shall  have  to  refer  you  to  Lady  Joanna  Farringmore. 
She  can  tell  you — exactly." 

He  made  a  slight  movement  of  surprise.  "You  know  the 
Farringmore  family?" 

She  raised  her  brows  a  little.    "Yes.    Do  you  ?" 

"By  hearsay  only.  Lord  Wilchester  owns  the  High  Shale 
Mines.  I  have  never  met  any  of  them."  He  spoke  without 
enthusiasm. 

"And  never  want  to  ?"  she  suggested.  "I  quite  understand. 
I  am  very  tired  of  them  myself  just  now — most  especially  of 
Lady  Joanna.  But  perhaps  it  is  rather  bad  taste  to  say  so,  as 
I  have  been  brought  up  as  her  companion  from  childhood." 

"And  now  you  have  left  her  ?"  he  said. 

"Yes  I  have  left  her.  I  have  disapproved  of  her  for  some 
time,"  Juliet  spoke  thoughtfully.  "She  is  very  unconventional 
you  know.  And  I — well,  at  heart  I  fancy  I  must  be  rather 
a  prude.  Anyhow,  I  disapproved,  more  and  more  strongly, 
and  at  last  I  came  away." 

"That  was  rather  brave  of  you,"  he  commented. 

"Oh,  it  wasn't  much  of  a  sacrifice.  I've  got  a  little  money 
— enough  to  keep  me  from  starvation;  but  not  enough  to 
buy  me  cigarettes — at  least  not  the  kind  I  like."  Juliet's 
smile  was  one  of  friendly  confidence.  "I  think  it's  about  my 
only  real  vice,  and  I've  never  been  used  to  inferior  ones. 
Do  you  mind  telling  me  where  you  get  yours  ?" 

He  smiled  back  at  her  as  he  felt  for  his  cigarette-case. 
"You  had  better  try  one  and  make  sure  you  like  them  before 
you  get  any." 

"Oh,  I  know  I  should  like  them,"  she  said,  "thank  you 
very  much.  No,  don't  give  me  one!  I  feel  as  if  I've  begged 
for  it.  But  just  tell  me  where  you  get  them,  and  if  they're 
not  too  expensive  I'll  buy  some  to  try." 


Brother  Dick  35 

He  held  the  open  cigarette-case  in  front  of  her.  "Won't 
you  honour  me  by  accepting  one  ?"  he  said. 

She  hesitated,  and  then  in  a  moment  very  charmingly  she 
yielded.  "Thank  you — Mr.  Green.  I  seem  to  have  accepted 
a  good  deal  from  you  to-night.  Thank  you  very  much." 

He  made  her  a  slight  bow.  "It  has  been  my  privilege  to 
serve  you,"  he  said.  "I  hope  I  may  have  further  opportuni- 
ties of  being  of  use.  I  can  get  you  these  cigarettes  at  any 
time  if  you  like  them.  But  they  are  not  obtainable  locally." 

"Not!"    Her  face  fell.    "How  disappointing !" 

"Not  from  my  point  of  view,"  he  said.  "There's  no  diffi- 
culty about  it.  I  can  get  them  for  you  if  you  will  allow  me." 

He  struck  a  match  for  her,  and  kindled  a  cigarette  for 
himself  also. 

Juliet  inhaled  a  deep  breath.  "They  are  lovely,"  she  said. 
"I  knew  I  should  like  them  when  you  went  past  Mrs. 
Rickett's  smoking  one." 

He  looked  at  her  with  amusement.    "When  was  that  ?" 

"When  I  was  waiting  for  that  dreadful  ginger  pudding  at 
lunch — I  mean  dinner."  She  paused.  "No,  that's  horrid  of 
me.  Please  consider  it  unsaid !" 

"Why  shouldn't  you  say  it  if  you  think  it  ?"  he  asked. 

"Because  it's  unkind.  Mrs.  Rickett  is  the  soul  of  good- 
ness. And  I  am  going  to  learn  to  like  her  ginger  pudding — 
and  her  dumplings — and  everything  that  is  hers." 

"How  heroic  of  you !    I  wonder  if  you  will  succeed." 

"Of  course  I  shall  succeed,"  Juliet  spoke  with  confidence 
as  she  turned  to  pass  through  the  gate.  "I  am  going  to  culti- 
vate a  contented  mind  here.  And  when  I  go  back  to  Lady 
Jo — if  I  ever  do — I  shall  be  proof  against  anything." 

He  reached  forward  to  open  the  gate.  "I  think  you  will 
probably  go  back  long  before  the  contented  mind  has  begun 
to  sprout,"  he  said. 


36  The  Obstacle  Race 

She  laughed  as  she  walked  on  down  the  path.  "But  it  has 
begun  already.  I  haven't  felt  so  cheerful  for  a  long  time." 

"That  isn't  real  contentment,"  he  pointed  out.  "It's  your 
spirit  of  adventure  enjoying  itself.  Wait  till  you  begin  to 
be  bored !" 

"How  extremely  analytical!"  she  remarked.  "I  am  not 
going  to  be  bored.  My  spirit  of  adventure  is  not  at  all  an 
enterprising  one.  I  assure  you  I  didn't  enjoy  that  tumble 
over  the  cliff  in  the  least.  I  am  a  very  quiet  person  by 
nature."  She  began  to  laugh.  "You  must  have  noticed  I 
wasn't  very  intrepid  in  the  face  of  danger.  I  seem  to  re- 
member your  telling  me  not  to  be  silly." 

"I  hoped  you  had  forgiven  and  forgotten  that,"  he  said. 

"Neither  one  nor  the  other/'  she  answered,  checking  her 
mirth.  "I  think  you  would  have  been  absolutely  justified  in 
using  even  stronger  language  under  the  circumstances.  You 
wouldn't  have  saved  me  if  you  hadn't  been — very  firm." 

"Very  brutal,  you  mean.  No,  I  ought  to  have  managed  bet- 
ter. I  will  next  time."  He  spoke  with  a  smile,  but  there  was 
a  hint  of  seriousness  in  his  words. 

"When  will  that  be?"  said  Juliet. 

"I  don't  know.  But  I  can  make  the  way  down  much  easier. 
The  steps  are  a  simple  matter,  and  I  have  often  thought  a 
charge  of  gunpowder  would  improve  that  bit  where  the  rock 
hangs  over.  If  I  hadn't  wanted  to  keep  the  place  to  myself 
I  should  have  done  it  long  ago.  It  certainly  is  dangerous  now 
to  anyone  who  doesn't  know." 

Juliet  came  to  a  sudden  halt  in  the  path.  "Oh,  you  are  an 
engineer !"  she  said.  "I  hope  you  will  not  spoil  your  favourite 
eyrie  just  because  I  may  some  day  fall  over  into  it  again. 
The  chance  is  a  very  remote  one,  I  assure  you.  Now,  please 
don't  come  any  farther  with  me!  It  has  only  just  dawned 
on  me  that  your  way  probably  lies  in  the  direction  of  the 


Brother  Dick  37 

mines.    I  shouldn't  have  let  you  come  so  far  if  I  had  realized 
it  sooner." 

He  looked  momentarily  surprised.  "But  I  do  live  in  this 
direction,"  he  said.  "In  any  case,  I  hope  you  will  allow  me 
to  see  you  safely  back." 

"But  there  is  no  need,"  she  protested.  "We  are  practically 
there.  Do  you  really  live  this  way?" 

"Yes.  Quite  close  to  the  worthy  Mrs.  Rickett  too.  I  am 
not  an  engineer.  I  am  the  village  schoolmaster." 

He  announced  the  fact  with  absolute  directness.     It  was 
Juliet's  turn  to  look  surprised.    She  almost  gasped. 
"You— you!" 

"Yes,  I.  Why  not?"  He  met  her  look  of  astonishment 
with  a  smile.  "Have  I  given  you  a  shock  ?" 

She  recovered  herself  with  an  answering  smile.  "No,  of 
course  not.  I  might  have  guessed.  I  wonder  I  didn't." 

"But  how  could  you  guess  ?"  he  questioned.  "Have  I  the 
manners  of  a  pedagogue?" 

"No,"  she  said  again.  "No,  of  course  not.  Only — I  have 
been  hearing  a  good  deal  about  you  to-day ;  not  in  your  capac- 
ity of  schoolmaster,  but  as — Brother  Dick." 

"Ah !"  he  said  sharply,  and  just  for  a  moment  she  thought 
he  was  either  embarrassed  or  annoyed,  but  whatever  the  feel- 
ing he  covered  it  instantly.  "You  have  talked  to  my  brother 
Robin?" 

"Yes,"  she  said.  "He  is  the  only  person  I  have  talked  to 
besides  Mrs.  Rickett.  We  met  on  the  shore." 

"I  hope  he  behaved  himself,"  he  said.  "You  weren't  afraid 
of  him,  I  hope." 

"No;  poor  lad!  Why  should  I  be?"  Juliet  spoke  very 
gently,  very  pitifully.  "I  have  a  feeling  that  Robin  and  I 
are  going  to  be  friends,"  she  said. 

"You  are  very  good,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice.    "He  hasn't 


38  The  Obstacle  Race 

many  friends,  poor  chap.  But  he's  very  faithful  to  those  he's 
got.  Most  people  are  so  revolted  by  his  appearance  that  they 
never  get  any  farther.  And  he's  shy  too — very  naturally. 
How  did  he  come  to  speak  to  you  ?" 

She  hesitated.  "It  was  I  who  spoke  first,"  she  said,  in  a 
moment. 

"Really !    What  made  you  do  that  ?" 

She  hesitated  again. 

He  looked  at  her  with  sudden  attention.  "He  did  some- 
thing that  made  you  speak.  What  was  it,  please  ?" 

His  tone  was  peremptory,  almost  curt,  Juliet  hesitated  no 
longer. 

"Do  you  mind  if  I  don't  answer  that  question  ?"  she  said. 

"He  will  tell  me  if  you  don't,"  he  returned,  with  a  certain 
hardness  that  made  her  wonder  if  he  were  angered  by  her 
refusal. 

"That  wouldn't  be  fair  of  you,"  she  said  gently,  "when  I 
specially  don't  want  you  to  know." 

"You  don't  want  me  to  know?"  he  said. 

"I  should  tell  you  myself  if  I  did,"  she  pointed  out. 

"I  see."  He  reflected  for  a  moment;  then:  "Will  you 
promise  to  tell  me  if  he  ever  does  it  again  ?"  he  said. 

Juliet  laughed  with  a  feeling  of  almost  inordinate  relief. 
"Yes,  certainly.  I  know  he  never  will." 

"Then  that's  the  end  of  that,"  he  said. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Juliet. 

They  had  reached  the  road  that  turned  up  to  the  village, 
and  the  light  from  a  large  lamp  some  distance  up  the  hill 
shone  down  upon  them. 

"That  is  where  Mr.  Fielding  lives,"  said  Green,  as  they 
walked  towards  it.  "Those  are  his  lodge-gates.  No  doubt 
you  have  heard  of  him  too.  He  is  the  great  man  of  the  place. 
He  owns  it,  in  fact." 


Brother  Dick  39 

"Yes,  I  have  heard  of  him,"  said  Juliet.  "Is  he  a  nice 
man?" 

He  made  an  almost  imperceptible  movement  of  the  shoul- 
ders. "I  am  very  much  indebted  to  him,"  he  said. 

"I  see,"  said  Juliet. 

They  reached  the  cottage-gate  that  led  to  the  blacksmith's 
humble  abode,  and  a  smell  of  rank  tobacco,  floating  forth, 
announced  the  fact  that  he  was  smoking  his  pipe  in  the 
porch. 

Juliet  paused  and  held  out  her  hand.  "Good-bye!"  she 
said. 

His  grasp  was  strong  and  very  steady.  "Good-bye,"  he 
said,  "I  hope  you'll  find  what  you're  looking  for." 

He  stooped  to  pat  Columbus,  then  opened  the  gate  for 
her. 

Instantly  there  was  a  stir  in  the  porch  as  of  some  large 
animal  awaking.  "That  you,  Mr.  Green  ?"  called  a  deep  bass 
voice.  "Come  in!  Come  in!" 

But  Green  remained  outside.  "Not  to-night,  thanks,"  he 
called  back.  "I've  got  some  work  to  do.  Good-night!" 

The  gate  closed  behind  her,  and  Juliet  walked  up  the  path 
with  Columbus  trotting  sedately  by  her  side.  She  heard  her 
escort's  departing  footsteps  as  she  went,  and  wondered  when 
they  would  meet  again. 


CHAPTER   V 

THE  GREAT  MAN 

THE  church  at  Little  Shale  was  very  ancient  and  pic- 
turesque. It  stood  almost  opposite  to  the  lodge-gates  of 
Shale  Court,  the  abode  of  the  great  Mr.  Fielding.  Two 
cracked  bells  hung  in  its  crumbling  square  tower,  disturb- 
ing once  a  week  the  jackdaws  that  built  in  the  ivy.  Just  once 
a  week  ever  since  the  Dark  Ages,  was  Juliet's  reflection  as 
she  dutifully  obeyed  the  somewhat  querulous-sounding  sum- 
mons on  the  following  day.  She  could  not  picture  their  ring- 
ing for  any  bridal  festivity,  though  it  seemed  possible  that 
they  might  sometimes  toll  for  the  dead. 

Two  incredibly  old  yew-trees  mounted  guard  on  each  side 
of  the  gate  and  another  of  immense  size  overhung  the  porch. 
The  path  was  lined  by  grave-stones  that  all  looked  as  if  they 
were  tottering  to  a  fall. 

An  old  clergyman  in  a  cassock  that  was  brown  with  age 
hurried  past  her  as  she  walked  up  the  path.  She  thought 
he  matched  his  surroundings  as  he  disappeared  at  a  trot  round 
the  corner  of  the  church.  Then  from  behind  her  came  the 
hoot  of  a  motor-horn,  and  she  glanced  back  to  see  a  closed 
car  that  glittered  at  every  angle  swoop  through  the  open  gates 
and  swerve  round  to  the  churchyard.  She  wanted  to  stop 
and  see  its  occupants  alight,  but  decorum  prompted  her  to 
pass  on,  and  she  entered  the  church  which  smelt  of  the 
mould  of  centuries  and  paused  inside. 

40 


The  Great  Man  41 

It  was  a  plain  little  place  with  plastered  walls,  and  green 
glass  windows,  and  one  large  square  pew  under  the  pulpit. 
The  other  pews  were  modern  and  very  bare,  occupied  sparsely 
by  villagers  who  all  had  their  faces  turned  over  their  shoul- 
ders and  were  craning  to  watch  the  door. 

No  one  looked  at  her,  however,  and  Juliet,  after  brief 
hesitation,  sat  down  in  a  chair  close  to  the  porch.  The  en- 
trance of  the  Court  party  was  evidently  something  of  an 
event,  and  she  determined  to  get  a  good  view. 

Footsteps  came  up  the  path,  and  on  the  very  verge  of  the 
porch  a  voice  spoke — a  woman's  voice,  unmodulated,  arro- 
gant. 

"Oh,  really,  Edward !  I  don't  see  why  your  village  school- 
master should  be  asked  to  lunch  every  Sunday,  however  im- 
maculate he  may  be.  I  object  on  principle." 

The  words  were  scarcely  uttered  before  the  notes  of  the 
organ  swelled  suddenly  through  the  church.  Juliet  sent  a 
quick  look  towards  it,  and  saw  the  black  cropped  head  of  the 
man  in  question  as  he  sat  at  the  instrument.  It  occupied  one 
side  of  the  chancel  and  a  crowd  of  village  children  congre- 
gated in  the  side  pews  immediately  outside  and  under  the  eye 
of  the  organist.  Juliet  felt  an  indignant  flush  rise  in  her 
cheeks.  She  was  certain  that  that  remark  had  been  audible 
all  over  the  church,  and  she  resented  it  with  almost  unreason- 
able vehemence. 

Then  with  a  sweep  of  feathers  and  laces  the  speaker  en- 
tered, and  she  raised  her  eyes  to  regard  her.  She  saw  a 
young  woman,  delicate-looking,  with  a  pretty,  insolent  face 
and  expensive  clothes,  walk  past,  and  was  aware  for  a  mo- 
ment of  a  haughty  stare  that  seemed  to  question  her  right 
to  be  there.  Then  her  own  attention  passed  to  the  man  who 
entered  in  her  wake. 

He  was  tall,  middle-aged,  handsome  in  a  somewhat  ordin- 


42  The  Obstacle  Race 

ary  style,  but  Juliet  thought  his  mouth  wore  the  most  un- 
pleasant expression  she  had  ever  seen.  It  was  drawn  down 
at  the  corners  in  a  sneering  curve,  and  a  slight  frown  knitted 
his  brows.  He  walked  with  the  suggestion  of  a  swagger, 
as  if  ready  to  challenge  any  who  should  dispute  his  right  to 
the  place  and  everyone  in  it. 

His  wife  entered  the  great  square  pew,  but  he  strode  on 
to  the  chancel,  tapped  the  organist  unceremoniously  on  the 
shoulder  and  spoke  to  him. 

Juliet  watched  the  result  with  a  curiosity  she  could  not 
restrain.  The  black  head  turned  sharply.  She  caught  a 
momentary  glimpse  of  Green's  energetic  profile  as  he  spoke 
briefly  and  emphatically  and  immediately  returned  to  his 
instrument.  The  squire  marched  back  to  his  pew  still  frown- 
ing, and  the  voluntary  continued.  He  played  with  assurance 
but  somewhat  mechanically,  and  she  presently  realized  that 
he  was  keeping  a  sharp  eye  on  the  schoolchildren  at  the  same 
time.  The  service  was  a  lengthy  one  and  they  needed  super- 
vision. They  fidgeted  and  whispered  unceasingly.  A  lady 
whom  she  took  to  be  the  Vicar's  daughter  sat  near  them,  but 
it  was  quite  obvious  that  she  had  no  control  over  them.  Dur- 
ing the  sermon,  which  was  a  very  sleepy  affair,  Green  left  the 
organ  and  went  and  sat  amongst  them. 

Then  indeed  a  profound  quiet  reigned  and  Juliet  became 
so  drowsy  that  it  took  her  utmost  resolution  to  stay  awake. 
Most  of  the  congregation  slept  unrestrainedly.  It  was  cer- 
tainly a  hot  morning,  and  the  service  very  dull. 

When  it  was  over  at  last,  she  stepped  out  under  the  yew- 
trees  and  wondered  why  she  had  not  made  her  escape  before. 
She  was  the  first  to  leave  the  church,  and  wandering  down 
the  path  through  the  hot,  chequered  sunlight  she  saw  the 
shining  car  drawn  up  at  the  gate,  and  a  young  chauffeur 
waiting  at  the  door.  She  glanced  at  him  as  she  passed,  and 


The  Great  Man  43 

was  surprised  for  a  second  to  find  him  gazing  at  her  with 
a  curious  intentness.  He  lowered  his  eyes  the  moment  they 
met  hers,  and  she  passed  on,  wondering  what  there  was  about 
her  to  excite  his  interest. 

Columbus  was  waiting  with  pathetic  patience  to  be  taken 
for  a  walk,  and  overpoweringly  hot  though  it  was  she  had 
not  the  heart  to  keep  him  any  longer.  But  she  could  not 
face  the  full  blaze  of  noon  on  the  shore,  and  she  turned  back 
up  the  shady  church  lane  with  a  vague  memory  of  having 
seen  a  stile  at  the  entrance  of  a  wood  somewhere  along  its 
winding  length. 

The  church-goers  had  dispersed  by  that  time,  but  at  the 
gate  of  the  schoolhouse  which  was  a  few  yards  above  the 
church  she  saw  a  group  of  boys  waiting  clamorously,  and 
just  as  she  found  her  stile  she  saw  Green  come  out  dressed 
in  flannels  with  a  bath-towel  round  his  neck.  The  boys 
swarmed  all  about  him  like  a  crowd  of  excited  puppies, 
and  Juliet  turned  into  the  wood  with  a  smile.  So  he  had 
refused  the  squire's  invitation  to  luncheon !  She  was  very 
glad  of  that. 

The  green  glades  of  the  wood  received  her ;  she  wandered 
forward  with  a  delightful  sense  of  well-being.  The  thought 
of  London  came  to  her — the  heat  and  the  dust  and  the  fumes 
of  petrol — the  chattering  crowds  under  the  parched  trees — 
the  kaleidoscopic  glitter  of  fashion  at  its  crudest  and  most 
amazing.  She  knew  exactly  what  they  were  all  doing  at 
that  precise  moment.  She  visualized  the  shifting,  restless 
feverish  throng  with  a  vividness  that  embraced  every  detail. 
And  she  turned  her  face  up  to  the  tree-tops  and  revelled 
in  her  solitude.  Only  last  week  she  had  been  in  that  seeth- 
ing whirlpool,  borne  helplessly  hither  and  thither  like  drift- 
wood, caught  here  or  flung  there  by  any  chance  current. 
Only  last  week  she  had  felt  the  sudden  drawing  of  the  vor- 


44  The  Obstacle  Race 

tex,  sucking  her  down  with  appalling  swiftness.  Only 
last  week!  And  to-day  she  was  free.  She  had  awakened 
to  the  danger  almost  at  the  eleventh  hour,  and  she  had 
escaped.  Thank  God  she  had  escaped  in  time ! 

She  suddenly  wished  that  she  had  remembered  to  utter 
her  thanksgiving  during  that  very  monotonous  service  in- 
stead of  going  to  sleep.  But  somehow  it  seemed  just  as 
appropriate  out  here  under  the  glorious  beeches.  She  sat 
down  on  a  mossy  root  and  drank  in  the  sweetness  with  a 
deep  content.  Columbus  was  busy  trying  to  unearth 
a  wood-louse  that  had  eluded  him  in  a  tuft  of  grass.  She 
watched  him  lazily. 

He  persevered  for  a  long  time,  till  in  fact  the  tuft  of 
grass  was  practically  demolished,  and  then  at  last,  failing 
in  his  quest,  he  relinquished  the  search,  and  with  a  deep 
sigh  lay  down  by  her  side. 

She  laid  a  caressing  hand  upon  him,  and  ruffled  his 
grizzled  hair.  "I'd  be  lonely  without  you,  Columbus,"  she 
said. 

Columbus  smiled  at  the  compliment  and  snapped  incon- 
sequently  at  a  fly. 

"I  wish  we  had  brought  some  lunch  with  us,"  remarked 
his  mistress.  "Then  we  needn't  have  gone  back.  Why 
didn't  you  think  of  it,  Columbus?" 

Columbus  couldn't  say  really,  but  he  wriggled  his  nose 
into  the  caressing  hand  and  gave  her  to  understand  that 
lunch  really  didn't  matter.  Then  very  suddenly  he  extri- 
cated it  again  and  uttered  a  growl  that  might  have  risen 
from  the  heart  of  a  lion. 

Juliet  looked  up.  Someone  was  coming  along  the  wind- 
ing path  through  the  wood.  She  grasped  Columbus  by  the 
collar,  for  he  had  a  disconcerting  habit  of  barking  round 
the  legs  of  intruders  if  not  wholly  satisfied  as  to  their  re- 


The  Great  Man  45 

spectability.  The  next  moment  a  figure  came  in  sight,  and 
she  recognized  the  squire. 

He  was  walking  quickly,  impatiently,  flicking  to  and  fro 
with  a  stick  as  he  came.  The  frown  still  drew  his  fore- 
head, and  she  saw  at  a  first  glance  that  he  was  annoyed. 

He  did  not  see  her  at  first,  not  in  fact  until  he  was  close 
upon  her.  Then,  as  Columbus  tactlessly  repeated  his 
growl,  he  started  and  his  look  fell  upon  her. 

Juliet  had  had  no  intention  of  speaking,  but  his  eyes  held 
so  direct  a  question  that  she  found  herself  compelled  to  do 
so.  "I  hope  we  are  not  trespassing,"  she  said. 

He  put  his  hand  to  his  hat  with  a  jerk.  "You  are  not, 
madam,"  he  said.  "I  am  not  so  sure  of  the  dog." 

His  voice  was  not  unpleasant,  but  no  smile  accompanied 
his  words.  At  close  quarters  she  saw  that  he  was  older  than 
she  had  at  first  believed  him  to  be.  He  was  well  on  in  the 
fifties. 

She  drew  Columbus  nearer  to  her.  "I  won't  let  him 
hunt,"  she  said. 

"He  will  probably  get  shot  if  he  does,"  remarked  Mr. 
Fielding,  and  was  gone  without  further  ceremony. 

Juliet  put  her  arms  around  her  favourite  and  kissed  him 
between  his  pricked  ears.  "What  a  sweet  man,  Columbus !" 
she  murmured.  "I  think  we  must  cultivate  him,  don't  you  ?" 

She  wondered  why  he  was  going  back  towards  the  church 
lane  at  that  hour,  for  it  was  past  one  o'clock  and  time  for 
her  to  be  wending  her  own  way  back  to  the  village.  She 
gave  him  ample  opportunity  to  clear  the  wood,  however, 
before  she  moved.  She  was  determined  that  she  and  Colum- 
bus would  be  more  discreet  next  time. 

Mrs.  Rickett's  midday  meal  was  fixed  for  half  past  one. 
She  was  not  looking  forward  to  it  with  any  great  relish, 
for  her  prophetic  soul  warned  her  that  it  would  not  be  of 


46  The  Obstacle  Race 

a  very  dainty  order,  but  not  for  worlds  would  she  have 
had  the  good  woman  know  it.  Besides,  she  had  one 
cigarette  left ! 

She  got  up  when  she  judged  it  safe,  and  began  to  walk 
back.  But,  nearing  the  stile,  the  sound  of  voices  made  her 
pause.  Two  men  were  evidently  standing  there,  and  she 
realized  with  something  like  dismay  that  the  way  was 
blocked.  She  waited  for  a  moment  or  two,  then  decided  to 
put  a  bold  face  on  it  and  pursue  her  course.  Mrs. 
Rickett's  dinner  certainly  would  not  improve  by  keeping. 

She  pressed  on  therefore,  and  as  she  drew  nearer,  she 
recognized  the  squire's  voice,  raised  on  a  note  of  irritation. 

"Oh,  don't  be  a  fool,  my  good  fellow!  I  shouldn't  ask 
you  if  I  didn't  really  want  you." 

The  answer  came  instantly,  and  though  it  sounded  curt 
it  had  a  ring  of  humour.  "Thank  you,  sir.  And  I  shouldn't 
refuse  if  I  really  wanted  to  come." 

There  was  a  second's  silence ;  then  the  squire's  voice  again, 
loud  and  explosive:  "Confound  you  then!  Do  the  other 
thing!" 

It  was  at  this  point  that  Juliet  rounded  a  curve  in  the 
path  and  came  within  sight  of  the  stile. 

Green  was  standing  facing  her,  and  she  saw  his  instant 
glance  of  recognition.  Mr.  Fielding  had  his  back  to  her, 
and  the  younger  man  laid  a  hand  upon  his  arm  and  drew 
him  aside. 

Fielding  turned  sharply.  He  looked  her  up  and  down 
with  a  resentful  stare  as  she  mounted  the  stile,  and  Juliet 
flushed  in  spite  of  the  most  determined  composure. 

Green  came  forward  instantly  and  offered  a  hand  to  assist 
her.  "Good  morning,  Miss  Moore!  Exploring  in  another 
direction  to-day?"  he  said. 

She  took  the  proffered  hand,  feeling  absurdly  embarrassed 


The  Great  Man  47 

by  the  squire's  presence.  Green  was  bareheaded,  and  his 
hair  shone  wet  in  the  strong  sunlight.  His  manner  was 
absolutely  easy  and  assured.  She  met  his  smiling  look 
with  an  odd  feeling  of  gratitude,  as  if  he  had  ranged  him- 
self on  her  side  against  something  formidable. 

"I  am  afraid  I  haven't  been  very  fortunate  in  my  choice 
to-day  either,"  she  said  somewhat  ruefully,  as  she  descended. 

He  laughed.  "We  all  trespass  in  those  woods.  It's  a 
time-honoured  custom,  isn't  it,  Mr.  Fielding  ?  The  pheasants 
are  quite  used  to  it." 

Juliet  did  not  glance  in  the  squire's  direction.  She  felt 
that  she  had  done  all  that  was  necessary  in  that  quarter,  and 
that  any  further  overture  would  but  meet  with  a  churlish 
response. 

But  to  her  astonishment  he  took  the  initiative.  "I  am 
afraid  I  wasn't  too  hospitable  just  now,"  he  said.  "It's  this 
fellow's  fault.  Dick,  it's  up  to  you  to  apologize  on  my  be- 
-half." 

Juliet  looked  at  him  then  in  amazement,  and  saw  that  the 
dour  visage  was  actually  smiling  at  her — such  a  smile  as 
transformed  it  completely. 

"If  Miss  Moore  will  permit  me,"  said  Mr.  Green,  with  a 
bow,  "I  will  introduce  you  to  her.  You  will  then  be  en  rap- 
port and  in  a  position  to  apologize  for  yourself." 

"Pedagogue !"  said  the  squire. 

And  Juliet  laughed  for  the  first  time.  "If  anyone  apolo- 
gizes it  should  be  me,"  she  said. 

"I !"  murmured  Green.    "With  more  apologies !" 

The  squire  turned  on  him.  "Green,  I'll  punch  your  head 
for  you  directly,  you  unspeakable  pedant!  What  should 
you  take  him  for,  Miss  Moore?  A  very  high  priest  or  a 
very  low  comedian  ?" 

Juliet  felt  her  breath  somewhat  taken  away  by  this  sudden 


4&  The  Obstacle  Race 

admission  to  intimacy.  She  looked  at  Green  whose  dark 
eyes  laughed  straight  back  at  her,  and  found  it  impossible  to 
stand  upon  ceremony. 

"I  really  don't  know,"  she  said.  "I  haven't  had  time  to 
place  him  yet.  But  it's  a  little  difficult  to  be  quite  impartial 
as  he  saved  my  life  last  night." 

"What  ?"  said  the  squire.  "That  sounds  romantic.  What 
made  him  do  that?" 

"Allow -me !"  interposed  Green,  pulling  the  bath-towel  from 
his  neck,  and  rapidly  winding  it  into  a  noose.  "It  happened 
yesterday  evening.  I  was  having  a  quiet  smoke  in  a  favourite 
corner  of  mine  on  a  ledge  about  twenty  feet  down  High  Shale 
Cliff  where  it  begins  to  get  steep,  when  Miss  Moore,  attracted 
by  the  scent  of  my  cigarette, — that's  right,  isn't  it?" — he 
flung  her  an  audacious  challenge  with  uplifted  brows — 
"when  Miss  Moore  attracted  as  I  say,  by  the  alluring  scent 
of  my  cigarette,  fell  over  the  edge  and  joined  me.  My 
gallantry  consisted  in  detaining  her  there,  after  this  some- 
what abrupt  introduction,  that's  all.  Oh  yes,  and  in  bullying 
her  afterwards  to  climb  up  again  when  she  didn't  want  to. 
I  was  an  awful  brute  last  night,  wasn't  I?  Really,  I  think 
it's  uncommonly  generous  of  you  to  have  anything  at  all  to 
say  to  me  this  morning,  Miss  Moore." 

"So  do  I,"  said  Mr.  Fielding.  "If  it  were  possible  to  treat 
such  a  buffoon  as  you  seriously,  she  wouldn't.  I  hope  you 
are  none  the  worse  for  the  adventure,  Miss  Moore." 

"No,  really  I  am  not,"  said  Juliet.  "And  I  am  still  feeling 
very  grateful."  She  smiled  at  the  squire.  "Good-bye!  I 
must  be  getting  back  to  Mrs.  Rickett's  or  the  dumplings  will 
be  cold." 

She  whistled  Columbus  to  her  and  departed,  still  wonder- 
ing at  the  transformation  which  Green  had  wrought  in  the 
squire.  It  had  not  occurred  to  her  that  there  could  be  any- 


The  Great  Man  49 

thing  really  pleasant  hidden  behind  that  grim  exterior.  It 
was  evident  that  the  younger  man  knew  how  to  hold  his  own. 
And  again  she  was  glad,  quite  unreasonably  glad,  that  he  had 
stuck  to  his  refusal  to  lunch  at  the  Court. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  VISITOR 

"MAY  I  come  and  see  you?"  said  Robin. 

Juliet,  seated  under  an  apple-tree  in  the  tiny  orchard  that 
ran  beside  the  road,  looked  up  from  her  book  and  saw  his 
thin  face  peering  at  her  through  the  hedge.  She  smiled  at 
him  very  kindly  from  under  her  flower-decked  shelter. 

"Of  COLTSC  !"  she  said.    "Come  in  by  all  means !" 

She  expected  him  to  go  round  to  the  gate,  but  he  surprised 
her  by  going  down  on  all  fours  and  crawling  through  a  gap 
in  the  privet.  He  looked  like  a  monstrous  baboon  shuffling 
towards  her.  When  through,  he  stood  up  again,  a  shaggy 
lock  of  hair  falling  across  his  forehead,  and  looked  at  her 
with  eyes  that  seemed  to  burn  in  their  deep  hollows  like  dis- 
tant lamps  at  night. 

He  stopped,  several  paces  from  her.  "Sure  you  don't  mind 
me?"  he  said. 

"Quiet  sure,"  said  Juliet,  with  quiet  sincerity.  "I  am 
very  pleased  to  see  you.  Wait  while  I  fetch  another  chair !" 

She  would  have  risen  with  the  words,  but  he  stopped  her 
with  a  gesture  almost  violent.  "No — no — no!"  He  nearly 
shouted  the  words.  "Don't  get  up !  Don't  go !  I  don't  want 
a  chair." 

Juliet  remained  seated.  "Just  as  you  like,"  she  said,  smil- 
ing at  him.  "But  I  don't  think  the  grass  is  dry  enough  to 
sit  on." 

50 


The  Visitor  51 

He  looked  contemptuous.  "It  won't  hurt  me.  I  hate 
chairs.  I'll  do  as  I  like." 

But  he  still  stood,  glowering  at  her  uncertainly  near  the 
hedge. 

"Come  along  then!"  said  Juliet  kindly.  "Come  and  sit 
down  near  me !  Why  not  ?" 

He  came  slowly,  and  let  himself  down  with  awkward,  lum- 
bering movements  by  her  side.  His  face  was  darkly  sullen. 
"I  don't  see  any  harm  in  it,!'  he  grumbled,  "if  you  don't 
mind." 

"Of  course  I  don't  mind !"  she  said.  "I  am  pleased.  As 
you  see,  I  have  no  other  visitors." 

He  lifted  his  heavy  eyes  to  hers.  "You'd  pack  me  off  fast 
enough  if  you  had." 

"No,  I  shouldn't.  Don't  be  silly,  Robin!"  She  smiled 
down  upon  him.  "You  are  going  to  stay  and  have  tea  with 
me,  aren't  you  ?" 

He  smiled  rather  doubtfully  in  answer.  "I'd  like  to.  I 
don't  know  if  I  can  though." 

"Why  shouldn't  you  ?"    she  questioned. 

He  folded  his  long  arms  about  his  knees,  and  murmured 
something  unintelligible. 

Juliet  looked  at  her  watch.  "Mrs.  Rickett  has  promised 
to  bring  it  in  another  quarter-of-an-hour,  and  we  will  ask 
her  to  bring  out  Freddy  too,  shall  we  ?  You'll  like  that." 

The  boy's  face  brightened  a  little.  He  did  not  speak  for 
a  moment  or  two ;  then  he  reached  forth  a  claw-like  hand  and 
tentatively  fingered  her  dress.  "I  don't  want  Freddy — when 
I've  got  you,"  he  muttered. 

"Oh,  don't  you  ?    How  kind !"  said  Juliet. 

Again  his  dark  eyes  lifted.  "It's  you  that's  kind,"  he  said. 
"I've  never  seen  anyone  like  you  before."  His  brow  clouded 
again  as  he  looked  at  her.  "You're  quite  as  much  a  lady  as 


52  The  Obstacle  Race 

Mrs.  Fielding,"  he  said.  "But  you  don't  call  me  a  'hideous 
abortion'." 

"I  should  think  not  !'*  Juliet  moved  impulsively  and  laid  her 
hand  upon  his  humped  shoulder.  "Don't  listen  to  such 
things,  Robin !  Put  them  out  of  your  head !  They  are  not 
true." 

He  rested  his  chin  upon  her  hand,  looking  up  at  her 
dumbly.  Her  heart  stirred  within  her.  The  pathos  of  those 
eyes  was  more  than  she  could  meet  unmoved.  Their  protest 
made  her  think  of  an  animal  in  pain. 

"It  doesn't  do  to  take  things  too  seriously,  Robin,"  she 
said  gently.  "There  are  people  in  the  world  who  will  say 
unkind  things  of  anybody.  It's  just  because  they  are  thought- 
less generally.  It  doesn't  do  to  listen." 

"No  one  ever  said  anything  unkind  about  you,"  he 
said. 

"Oh,  didn't  they?"  Juliet  smiled.  "Do  you  know,  Robin,  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  there  are  plenty  of  them  saying  unkind 
things  about  me  this  very  moment — that  is,  if  they  are  think- 
ing about  me  at  all." 

He  glanced  around  him  savagely.  "Where?  I'd  like  to 
hear  'em !  I'd  kill  'em !" 

"No — no !"  said  Juliet,  restraining  him.  "And  it's  no  one 
here  either.  But  you've  got  to  realize  that  it  doesn't  really 
matter  what  people  say.  They'll  always  talk,  you  know. 
Everyone  does.  It's  the  way  of  the  world,  and  we  can't  get 
away  from  it." 

Robin  looked  unconvinced.  "I'd  kill  anyone  who  said 
anything  bad  about  you  anyway,"  he  said. 

"I  don't  think  you  ought  to  talk  like  that,"  said  Juliet,  in 
her  quiet  way. 

"Why  not  ?"    His  eyes  suddenly  glowered  again. 

But  she  answered  him  with  absolute  calmness.     "Because 


The  Visitor  53 

if  you  mean  it,  it's  wrong — very  wrong.  And  if  you  don't 
mean  it,  it's  just — foolish." 

"Oh!"  said  Robin.  He  edged  himself  nearer  to  her.  "I 
like  you,"  he  said.  "Talk  some  more !  I  like  your  voice." 

"What  shall  I  talk  about?"  she  asked. 

"Tell  me  about  London !"  he  said. 

"Oh,  London!  My  dear  boy,  you'd  hate  London.  It's 
all  noise  and  crowds  and  dust.  The  streets  are  crammed  with 
cars  and  people  and  there  is  never  any  peace.  It's  like  a 
great  Wheel  that  is  never  still." 

"What  do  the  people  do?"  he  asked. 

"They  just  tear  about  from  morning  till  night,  and  very 
often  from  night  till  morning.  Everyone  is  always  trying  to 
get  first  and  to  be  a  little  smarter  than  anyone  else.  They 
think  they  enjoy  it."  Juliet  drew  a  sudden  hard  breath.  "But 
they  really  don't.  It's  such  a  whirl,  such  a  strain,  like  always 
running  at  top  speed  in  a  race  and  never  getting  there.  Yes, 
it's  just  that — a  sort  of  obstacle  race,  and  the  obstacles  al- 
ways getting  higher  and  higher  and  higher."  She  stopped 
and  uttered  a  deep  slow  sigh.  "Well,  I've  done  with  it, 
Robin.  I'm  not  going  to  get  over  any  more.  I've  dropped 
out.  I'm  going  to  grow  old  in  comfort." 

Robin  was  listening  with  deep  interest.  "Is  that  why  you 
came  here?"  he  said. 

"Yes.  I  was  tired  out  and  rather  scared.  I  got  away  just 
in  time — only  just  in  time." 

Something  in  her  voice,  low  though  it  was,  made  him  draw 
nearer  still,  massively,  protectively. 

"Are  you — hiding  from  someone?"  he  said. 

"Oh,  not  exactly."  She  patted  his  shoulder  gently.  "No 
one  would  take  the  trouble  to  come  and  look  for  me," 
she  said.  "They're  all  much  too  busy  with  their  own 
affairs." 


54  The  Obstacle  Race 

His  eyes  sought  hers  again.  "You're  not  frightened  then 
any  more  ?" 

She  smiled  at  him.  "No,  not  a  bit.  I've  got  over  that, 
and  I'm  beginning  to  enjoy  myself." 

"Shall  you  stay  here  always?"  he  questioned. 

"I  don't  know,  Robin.  I'm  not  going  to  look  ahead.  I'm 
just  going  to  make  the  best  of  the  present.  Don't  you  think 
that's  the  best  way?" 

He  made  a  wry  face.  "I  suppose  it  is — if  you  don't  know 
what's  coming." 

"But  no  one  knows  that,"  said  Juliet. 

He  glanced  at  her.  His  fingers,  clasped  about  his  knees, 
tugged  restlessly  at  each  other.  "I  know  what's  going  to 
happen  to  me,"  he  said,  after  a  moment.  "I'm  going  to  get 
into  a  row — with  Dicky." 

"Oh,  is  that  it?"  said  Juliet.  "I  knew  there  was  some- 
thing the  matter." 

He  nodded,  and  suddenly  she  saw  his  chin  quiver.  "I 
hate  a  row  with  Dicky,"  he  said  miserably. 

Her  heart  went  out  to  him,  he  looked  so  forlorn. 
"Why  don't  you  go  and  tell  him  you're  sorry?"  she  said 
gently. 

"Not — sorry,"  articulated  Robin,  with  a  sniff. 

The  matter  presented  difficulties.  Juliet  tried  to  hedge. 
"What  have  you  been  doing  ?" 

"Quarrelling,"  said  Robin. 

"What!    With  Dick?" 

"No."  Again  he  glanced  at  her,  and  wiped  a  hasty  hand 
across  his  eyes.  "Dick !"  he  repeated,  as  if  in  derision  at  her 
colossal  ignorance. 

"Well,  but  who  then?"  she  questioned.  "That  is — of 
course  don't  tell  me  if  you'd  rather  not !" 

"Don't  mind,"  said  Robin.     "I'll  tell  you  anything.     It 


The  Visitor  55 

was — Jack."  He  suddenly  turned  to  her  fully  with  blazing 
eyes.  "I — hate — Jack !"  he  said  very  emphatically. 

"Jack!  But  who  is  Jack?  Oh,  I  remember!"  Juliet 
abruptly  recalled  the  young  chauffeur  at  the  churchyard  gate. 
"He  is  your  other  brother,  isn't  he?  I'd  forgotten  him." 

"He's — a  beast !"  said  Robin.    "I  hate  him." 

His  look  challenged  reproof.  Juliet  wisely  made  none. 
"Isn't  he  kind  to  you  ?"  she  said. 

"It  wasn't  that!"  blurted  out  Robin.  "It — it — was  what 
he  said — about — about — "  He  suddenly  stopped,  closed  his 
lips  and  sat  savagely  biting  them. 

"About  what  ?"  asked  Juliet,  bewildered. 

Robin  sat  mute. 

"I  should  forget  it  if  I  were  you,"  she  said  sensibly.  "Peo- 
ple often  do  and  say  things  they  don't  mean.  It  doesn't  pay 
to  be  too  sensitive.  Let's  forget  it,  shall  we?" 

"I  can't,"  said  Robin.  "Dicky's  angry."  He  paused,  then 
continued  with  an  effort.  "He  said  I  wasn't  to  come  here, 
said — said  he'd  punish  me  if  I  did.  He  called  me  back,  and 
I  wouldn't  go.  He — "  He  suddenly  broke  off,  and  crept 
close  to  her  like  a  frightened  dog — "he's  coming  now!"  he 
whispered. 

The  catch  of  the  gate  had  clicked,  and  Columbus  who  had 
accepted  Robin  without  question,  bustled  forward  to  investi- 
gate. 

He  came  back  almost  immediately,  wearing  a  satisfied 
look,  and  as  he  settled  down  again  by  Juliet's  side,  Green 
appeared  on  the  path  that  led  to  the  apple-trees. 

Robin  pressed  closer  to  Juliet.  She  could  feel  him  trem- 
bling. Instinctively  she  laid  her  hand  upon  him  as  Green 
drew  near. 

"Have  you  come  to  see  me  or  to  look  for  Robin?"  she  said. 

Green's  look   was   enigmatical.      It   comprehended   them 


56  The  Obstacle  Race 

both  at  a  single  glance.  She  wondered  if  he  were  really 
angry,  but  if  so,  he  had  himself  under  complete  control. 

"I  have  brought  you  a  box  of  cigarettes  to  go  on  with,  Miss 
Moore,"  he  said,  and  produced  his  offering  with  a  smile. 

"How  very  kind  of  you !"  said  Juliet.  She  sat  up  with  a 
quick  flush  of  embarrassment.  "How  did  you  manage  to 
get  them  so  soon  ?  You  must  have  had  them  by  you." 

"I  had,"  said  Green.  "But  I  can  spare  you  these  with 
pleasure.  It's  awful  to  be  without  a  smoke,  isn't  it?" 

Juliet  smiled.  "These  will  last  me  for  ages.  I  am  being 
very  economical  now.  Please  will  you  tell  me  how  much 
they  are  ?" 

"Half-a-crown,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  please !"  she  protested.  "Let  us  be  honest !" 

"Exactly,"  he  said.  "It's  all  they  cost  me.  I  get  them 
through  a  friend." 

"But  perhaps  your  friend  wouldn't  care  for  me  to  have 
them  at  that  price,"  objected  Juliet. 

"Yes,  he  would.  It's  all  right,"  Green  dismissed  the 
matter  with  an  airiness  that  was  curiously  final.  "Don't 
bother  about  paying  me  now,  please !  I'd  rather  have  it  later. 
Robin,  get  up !" 

He  addressed  his  young  brother  so  suddenly  and  so  per- 
emptorily that  Juliet  was  momentarily  startled.  Then  very 
swiftly  she  intervened. 

"Mr.  Green,  please,  don't — be  angry  with  Robin!" 

His  look  flashed  straight  down  to  her.  His  eyes  were  still 
smiling,  yet  very  strangely  they  compelled  her  own.  He 
stooped  unexpectedly  after  an  instant's  pause,  lifted  her  hand 
with  absolute  gentleness  away  from  the  quivering  Robin,  and 
laid  it  in  her  lap. 

"Get  up,  old  chap !"  he  said.    "And  don't  be  an  ass !" 

There  was  no  questioning  the  kindness  of  his  voice.    Robin 


The  Visitor  57 

lifted  his  head,  stared  a  moment,  then  blundered  to  his  feet. 
He  stood  awkwardly,  as  if  unwilling  to  go  but  expecting  to 
be  dismissed. 

"He  is  staying  to  tea  with  me,"  said  Juliet. 

"Oh,  I  think  not,"  Green  said.  "Another  time — if  you  are 
kind  enough.  Not  to-day." 

He  spoke  very  decidedly.  Robin,  with  his  head  hanging, 
turned  away. 

Green,  with  a  brief  gesture  of  farewell,  turned  to  follow. 
But  in  that  moment  Juliet  spoke  in  that  full  rich  voice  of 
hers  that  was  all  the  more  arresting  because  she  did  not  raise 
it. 

"Mr.  Green,  I  want  to  speak  to  you." 

He  stopped  at  once.  She  thought  she  caught  a  glint  of 
humour  behind  the  courteous  attention  of  his  eyes. 

"Forgive  me  for  interfering !"  she  said.  "But  I  must  say 
it." 

"Pray  do !"  said  Green. 

Yet  she  found  some  difficulty  in  continuing.  It  would 
have  been  easier  if  he  had  shown  resentment,  but  quizzical 
tolerance  was  hard  to  meet. 

She  looked  up  at  him  doubtfully  for  a  moment  or  two. 
Then,  hesitatingly,  she  spoke.  "Please— don't — punish 
Robin  for  coming  here !" 

She  saw  his  brows  go  up  in  surprise.  He  was  about  to 
speak,  but  she  went  on  with  more  than  a  touch  of  embarrass- 
ment. "Perhaps  it  sounds  impertinent,  but  I  believe  I  could 
help  him  in  some  ways, — if  I  had  the  chance.  Anyhow,  I 
should  like  to  try.  Please  let  him  come  and  see  me  as  often 
as  he  likes !" 

"Really!"  said  Green,  and  stopped.  The  amusement  had 
wholly  gone  out  of  his  look.  "I  don't  know  what  to  say  to 
you,"  he  said  in  a  moment.  "You  are  so  awfully  kind." 


58  The  Obstacle  Race 

"No,  I'm  not  indeed."  Juliet's  smile  was  oddly  wistful. 
"I  assure  you  I  am  selfish  to  the  core.  But  there's  some- 
thing about  Robin  that  goes  straight  to  my  heart.  I  should 
like  to  be  kind  to  him — for  my  own  sake.  So  don't — please 
—  try  to  keep  him  out  of  my  way !" 

She  spoke  very  earnestly,  her  eyes  under  their  straight 
brows,  looking  directly  into  his, — honest  eyes  that  no  man 
could  doubt. 

Green  stood  facing  her,  his  look  as  kind  as  her  own.  "Do 
you  know,  Miss  Moore,"  he  said,  "I  think  this  is  about  the 
kindest  thing  that  has  ever  come  into  my  experience." 

She  made  a  slight  gesture  of  protest.  "Oh,  but  don't  ler 
us  talk  in  superlatives !"  she  said.  "Fetch  Robin  back,  and 
both  of  you  stay  to  tea !" 

He  shook  his  head.  "Not  to-day.  I  am  very  sorry.  But 
he  doesn't  deserve  it.  He  has  been  getting  a  bit  out  of  hand 
lately.  I  can't  pass  it  over." 

Juliet  leaned  forward  in  her  chair.  Her  eyes  were  sud- 
denly very  bright.  "This  once,  Mr.  Green!" -she  said. 

He  stiffened  a  little.    "No,"  he  said. 

"You  won't?" 

"I  can't." 

Juliet's  look  went  beyond  him  to  the  figure  of  Robin  lean- 
ing disconsolately  against  a  distant  tree.  She  sat  for  several 
moments  watching  him,  and  Green  still  stood  before  her  as 
if  waiting  to  be  dismissed. 

"Poor  boy!"  she  said  softly  at  length,  and  turned  again 
to  the  man  in  front  of  her.  "Are  you  sure  you  understand 
him?" 

"Yes,"  said  Green. 

"And  you  are  not  hard  on  him?  You  are  never  hard  on 
him?" 

"I  have  got  to  keep  him  in  order,"  he  said. 


The  Visitor  59 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know.  A  man  would  say  that."  Juliet's  face 
was  very  pitiful.  "Let  him  off  sometimes !"  she  urged  gently. 
"It  won't  do  him  any  harm." 

Green  smiled  abruptly.  "A  woman  would  say  that,"  he 
commented. 

She  smiled  in  answer.  "Yes,  I  think  any  woman  would. 
Don't  be  hard  on  him,  Mr.  Green!  He  has  been  shedding 
tears  over  your  wrath  already." 

"He  came  here  in  direct  defiance  of  my  orders,"  said 
Green. 

"I  know.    He  told  me.    Please  never  give  him  such  orders 


again 


"You  are  awfully  kind,"  Green  said  again.  "But  really  in 
this  case,  there  was  sufficient  reason.  Some  people — most 
people — prefer  him  at  a  distance." 

"I  am  not  one  of  them,"  Juliet  said. 

"I  see  you  are  not.  But  I  couldn't  risk  it.  Besides,  he 
was  in  a  towering  rage  when  he  started.  It  isn't  fair  to  in- 
flict him  on  people — even  on  anyone  as  kind  as  yourself — in 
that  state." 

"I  should  never  be  afraid  of  him,"  Juliet  said  quietly.  "I 
think  I  know — partly — what  was  the  matter.  Someone  made 
a  rather  cruel  remark  about  him,  and  someone  else  mali- 
ciously repeated  it.  Then  he  was  angry — very  angry — and 
lost  his  self-control,  and  I  suppose  more  cruel  things  were 
said.  And  then  he  came  here — he  asked  me — he  actually 
asked  me — if  I  was  sure  I  didn't  mind  him!" 

A  deep  light  was  shining  in  her  eyes  as  she  ended,  and  an 
answering  gleam  came  into  Green's  as  he  met  them. 

"I  know,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice.  "It's  infernally  hard 
for  him,  poor  chap !  But  it  doesn't  do  to  let  him  know  we 
think  so.  As  long  as  he  lives,  he's  got  to  bear  his  burden." 

"But  it  needn't  be  made  heavier  than  it  is,"  Juliet  said. 


60  The  Obstacle  Race 

"No,  it  needn't.  But  it  isn't  everyone  that  sees  it  in  that 
light.  I'm  glad  you  do  anyway,  and  I'm  grateful — on  Robin's 
behalf.  Good-bye!" 

He  lifted  his  hand  again  in  a  farewell  salute,  and  turned 
away. 

Juliet  watched  him  go,  watched  keenly  as  he  approached 
Robin,  saw  the  boy's  quick  glance  at  him  as  he  took  him  by 
the  arm  and  led  him  to  the  gate.  A  few  seconds  later  they 
passed  her  on  the  other  side  of  the  hedge  evidently  on  their 
way  to  the  shore,  and  she  heard  Robin's  voice  as  they  went 
by. 

"I'm — sorry  now,  Dicky,"  he  said. 

She  turned  her  head  to  catch  his  brother's  answer,  for  it 
did  not  come  immediately  and  she  wondered  a  little  at  the 
delay. 

Then,  as  they  drew  farther  away,  she  heard  Green  say, 
"Why  do  you  say  that  ?" 

"She  told  me  to,"  said  Robin. 

She  felt  her  colour  rise  and  heard  Green  laugh.  They 
were  almost  out  of  earshot  before  he  said,  "All  right,  boy! 
I'll  let  you  off  this  time.  Don't  do  it  again !" 

She  leaned  back  in  her  chair,  and  re-opened  her  book. 
But  she  did  not  read  for  some  time.  Somehow  she  felt 
glad — quite  unreasonably  glad  again — that  Robin  had  been 
let  off. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  OFFER 

"WELL,  it  ain't  none  of  my  business,"  said  Mrs.  Rickett, 
with  a  sniff.  "Nor  it  ain't  yours  either.  But  did  you  ever 
know  anyone  as  wore  anything  the  likes  of  that  before?" 

She  shook  out  for  her  husband's  inspection  a  filmy  garment 
that  had  the  look  of  a  baby's  robe  that  had  grown  up,  before 
spreading  it  on  her  kitchen  table  to  iron. 

"Ah !"  said  Rickett,  ramming  a  finger  into  the  bowl  of  his 
pipe.  "What  sort  of  a  thing  is  that  now?" 

"What  sort  of  a  thing,  man?  Why,  a  night  dress  of 
course!  What  d'you  think?"  Mrs.  Rickett  chuckled  at  his 
ignorance.  "And  that  flimsy — why  I'm  almost  afraid  to 
touch  it.  It's  the  quality,  you  see." 

"Ah !"  said  the  smith  vaguely. 

Mrs.  Rickett  tested  the  iron  near  her  cheek.  "And  it's  only 
the  quality,"  she  resumed,  as  she  began  to  use  it,  "as  wears 
such  things  as  these.  Why,  I  shouldn't  wonder  but  what 
they  came  from  Paris.  They  must  have  cost  a  mint  of 
money." 

"Ah !"  said  Rickett  again. 

"She's  as  nice-spoken  a  young  lady  as  I've  met,"  resumed 
his  wife.  "No  pride  about  her,  you  know.  She's  just  simple 
and  friendly-like.  Yet  I'd  like  to  see  the  man  as'd  take  a 
liberty  with  her  all  the  same." 

Rickett  pulled  at  his  pipe  with  a  grunt.  When  not  at  work, 
it  was  usually  his  role  to  sit  and  listen  to  his  wife's  chatter. 

61 


62  The  Obstacle  Race 

"She  ain't  been  brought  up  in  a  convent,"  continued  Mrs. 
Rickett.  "That's  plain  to  see.  With  all  the  gentle  ways 
of  her,  she  knows  how  to  hold  her  own.  Young  Robin 
Green,  he's  gone  just  plumb  moon-crazy  over  her,  and  it 
wouldn't  surprise  me" —  Mrs.  Rickett  lowered  her  voice 
mysteriously — "but  what  some  day  Dick  himself  was  to  do 
the  same." 

"Ah !"  said  the  smith. 

"She's  so  taking,  you  know,"  said  Mrs.  Rickett,  as  if  in 
extenuation  of  this  outrageous  surmise.  "And  there  isn't  any- 
one good  enough  for  him  about  here.  Of  course  there's  the 
infant  teacher — that  Jarvis  girl — she'd  set  her  cap  at  him  if 
she  dared.  But  he  wouldn't  look  at  her.  Young  Jack's  a  deal 
more  likely,  if  ever  he  does  settle  down — which  I  doubt.  But 
Dick — he's  different.  He's — why  if  that  ain't  Mr.  Fielding 
a-riding  up  the  path !  What  ever  do  he  want  at  this  time  of 
night  ?  Go  and  see,  George,  do !" 

George  lumbered  to  his  feet  obediently.  "Happen  he's 
come  to  call  on  our  young  lady,"  he  ventured,  with  a  slow 
grin. 

"Well,  don't  bring  him  in  here!"  commanded  his  wife. 
"Take  him  into  the  front  room,  while  I  put  on  a  clean  apron !" 
She  hastened  to  shut  the  door  upon  her  husband,  then  paused, 
listening  intently,  as  Mr.  Fielding's  riding  whip  rapped 
smartly  on  the  door. 

"Happen  it  is  only  the  young  lady  he's  after,"  she  said 
to  herself. 

It  was.  In  a  moment,  Mr.  Fielding's  voice,  superior, 
slightly  over-bearing,  made  itself  heard.  "Good  evening, 
Rickett!  I  think  Miss  Moore  is  lodging  here.  Is  she  in?" 

"Good  evening,  sir!"  said  Rickett,  and  waited  a  moment 
for  reflection.  "She  was  in,  but  I  can't  say  but  what  she  may 
have  gone  out  again  with  the  dog." 


The  Offer  63 

"Well,  find  out,  will  you !"  said  Mr.  Fielding.  "Wait  a 
minute !  You'd  better  take  my  card." 

Mrs.  Rickett  returned  to  her  ironing.  "What  ever  he 
be  come  for  ?"  she  murmured. 

The  Squire's  horse  stamped  on  the  tiled  path.  It  was 
eight  o'clock,  and  he  wanted  to  get  home  to  his  supper.  The 
squire  growled  at  him  inarticulately,  and  there  fell  a  silence. 

The  evening  light  spread  golden  over  the  apple-trees  in 
the  orchard.  Someone  was  wandering  among  the  falling 
blossoms.  He  heard  a  low  voice  softly  singing.  He  flung 
his  leg  over  his  horse's  back  abruptly  and  dropped  to  the 
ground. 

The  voice  stopped  immediately.  The  squire  fastened  his 
animal  to  the  porch  and  turned.  The  next  moment  Columbus 
burst  barking  through  the  intervening  hedge. 

"Columbus!  Columbus!"  called  Juliet's  voice.  "Come 
back  at  once !" 

"May  I  come  through?"  said  Mr.  Fielding. 

She  arrived  at  the  orchard-gate,  flushed  and  apologetic. 
"Oh  pray  do !  Please  excuse  Columbus !  He  always  speaks 
before  he  thinks." 

She  opened  the  gate  with  the  words,  and  held  out  her 
hand. 

She  was  aware  of  his  eyes  looking  at  her  very  searchingly 
as  he  took  it.  "I  hope  you  don't  mind  a  visitor  at  this  hour," 
he  said. 

She  smiled.  "No.  I  am  quite  at  liberty.  Come  and  sit 
down !" 

She  led  the  way  to  a  bench  under  the  apple-trees,  and  the 
squire  tramped  after  her  with  jingling  spurs. 

"I'm  afraid  you'll  think  me  very  unconventional,"  he  said, 
speaking  with  a  sort  of  arrogant  humility  as  she  stopped. 

"I  like  unconventional  people  best,"  said  Juliet. 


64  The  Obstacle  Race 

He  dropped  down  on  the  seat.  "Oh,  do  you?  Then  I 
needn't  apologize  any  further.  You've  been  here  about  a 
week,  haven't  you  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Juliet. 

His  look  dwelt  upon  the  simple  linen  dress  she  wore. 
"You  came  from  London  ?" 

"Yes,"  she  said  again. 

He  began  to  frown  and  to  pull  restlessly  at  the  lash  of 
his  riding-whip.  "Do  you  think  me  impertinent  for  asking 
you  questions?"  he  said. 

"Not  so  far,"  said  Juliet. 

He  uttered  a  brief  laugh.  "You're  cautious.  Listen, 
Miss  Moore !  I  don't  care  a I  mean,  it's  nothing  what- 
ever to  me  where  you've  come  from  or  why.  What  I  really 
came  to  ask  is — do  you  want  a  job  ?" 

Juliet  stiffened  a  little  involuntarily.  '"What  sort  of  a 
job?"  she  said. 

His  fingers  tugged  more  and  more  vigorously  at  the  leather. 
She  realized  quite  suddenly  that  he  was  embarrassed,  and  at 
once  her  own  embarrassment  passed. 

"Have  you  come  to  offer  me  a  job  ?"  she  said.  "How  kind 
of  you  to  think  of  it !" 

"You  don't  know  what  it  is  yet,"  said  Fielding,  biting  un- 
comfortably at  his  black  moustache.  "It  may  not  appeal  to 
you.  Quite  probably  it  won't.  You've  been  a  companion 
before — so  Green  tells  me." 

"Oh!"  Juliet's  straight  brows  gathered  slightly.  "Did 
Mr.  Green  tell  you  I  was  wanting  a  job?" 

"No,  he  didn't.  Green  sticks  to  his  own  business  and 
nothing  will  turn  him  from  it."  The  squire  suddenly  lashed 
with  his  whip  at  the  grass  in  front  of  him,  causing  Columbus 
to  jump  violently  and  turn  a  resentful  eye  upon  him.  "I'll 
tell  you  what  passed  if  you  want  to  know." 


The  Offer  65 

"Thank  you,"  said  Juliet  simply. 

She  leaned  forward  after  a  moment  and  pulled  Columbus 
to  her  side ;  fondling  his  pricked  ears  reassuringly. 

"It  was  on  Sunday,"  said  Fielding.  "My  wife  saw  you 
in  church.  She  took  rather  a  fancy  to  you.  I  hope  you 
don't  object?" 

"Why  should  I  ?"  said  Juliet. 

"Exactly.  Why  should  you?  Well,  after  Green's  intro- 
duction, when  you  had  gone,  I  asked  him  if  he  knew  anything 
about  you.  He  said  he  had  only  made  your  acquaintance  the 
day  before,  that  you  had  told  him  that  you  had  held  the  post 
of  companion  to  someone,  he  didn't  say  who.  And  I  won- 
dered if  possibly  you  might  feel  inclined  to  see  how  you  got 
on  with  my  wife  in  that  capacity.  She  is  not  strong.  She 
wants  a  companion." 

Juliet's  grey  eyes  gazed  steadily  before  her  as  she  listened. 
The  evening  light  shone  on  her  brown  head,  showing  streaks 
of  gold  here  and  there.  Her  attitude  was  one  of  grave  atten- 
tion. 

As  he  ended,  she  turned  towards  him,  still  caressing  the 
dog  at  her  feet. 

"Wouldn't  it  be  better,"  she  said,  "if  Mrs.  Fielding  knew 
me  before  offering  me  such  a  post  ?" 

The  squire  smiled  at  her  abruptly.  "No,  I  don't  think  so. 
It  wouldn't  be  worth  while  unless  you  mean  to  consider  it." 

"Is  that  her  point  of  view  ?"  asked  Juliet. 

"No;  it's  mine.  If  she  gets  to  know  you  and  sets  her 
heart  on  having  you,  and  then  you  go  and  disappoint  her — I 
shall  be  the  sufferer,"  explained  Fielding,  with  another  cut 
at  the  grass  in  front  of  him. 

It  was  Juliet's  turn  to  smile.  "But  I  can't — possibly — 
decide  until  we  have  met,  can  I  ?"  she  said. 

"Does  that  mean  you'll  consider  it  ?"  asked  the  squire. 


66  The  Obstacle  Race 

"I  am  considering  it,"  said  Juliet.  "But  please  give  me 
time !  For  I  have  only  just  begun." 

"That's  fair,"  he  conceded.    "How  long  will  it  take  you?" 

She  began  to  laugh.  There  was  something  almost  boy- 
ishly nai've  about  him,  notwithstanding  his  obvious  bad  tem- 
per. "You  haven't  told  me  any  details  yet,"  she  said. 

"Oh,  you  mean  money,"  he  said.  "I  leave  that  to  you. 
You  can  name  your  own  terms." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Juliet  again.  "That  would  naturally 
appeal  to  me  very  much.  But  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I  was  not 
referring  to  money  at  that  moment." 

He  gave  her  a  keen  look.  "I  didn't  mean  to  offend  you. 
Are  you  offended?" 

She  met  his  eyes  quite  squarely.  "On  second  thoughts — 
no!" 

"Why  second  thoughts  ?"  he  demanded. 

Her  colour  rose  faintly.  "Because  I  think  second  thoughts 
are — kinder." 

Fielding  turned  suddenly  crimson.  "So  I'm  a  cad  and  a 
bounder,  am  I  ?"  he  said  furiously. 

Juliet's  eyes  contemplated  him  without  a  hint  of  dismay. 
There  was  even  behind  their  serenity  the  faint  glint  of  a 
smile.  "I  think  that  is  putting  it  rather  strongly,"  she  said. 
"But  I  really  don't  know  you  yet.  I  am  not  in  a  position  to 
judge — even  if  I  wished  to  do  so." 

Fielding  sat  for  a  moment  or  two  quite  rigid,  as  if  on  the 
verge  of  springing  to  his  feet  and  leaving  her.  Then  with 
amazing  suddenness  he  broke  into  a  laugh,  and  the  tension 
was  past. 

"By  Jove,  I  like  you  for  that!"  he  said.  "You  did  it 
jolly  well.  You've  got  pluck,  and  you  know  how  to  keep  your 
temper.  You'll  have  to  forgive  me,  Miss  Moore.  We're 
going  to  be  friends  after  this." 


The  Offer  67 

There  was  something  very  winning  about  this  overture, 
and  Juliet  was  not  proof  against  it.  He  was  evidently  of 
those 'who  consider  that  an  apology  condones  any  offence, 
and,  though  she  was  far  from  agreeing  with  him  on  this 
point,  it  was  not  in  her  to  be  churlish. 

She  smiled  at  him  without  speaking. 

"Sure  you're  not  angry  with  me  ?"  urged  the  Squire. 

She  nodded.  "Yes,  quite  sure.  Won't  you  go  on  where 
you  left  off?" 

"Where  did  I  leave  off?"  He  frowned.  "Oh  yes,  you 
asked  for  details.  Well,  what  do  you  want  to  know?  My 
wife  always  breakfasts  in  bed,  so  she  wouldn't  want  you 
before  ten.  But  you'd  live  with  us  of  course.  I'd  see  that 
they  made  you  comfortable." 

"If  my  duties  did  not  begin  before  ten,  there  would  be  no 
need  for  that,"  pointed  out  Juliet. 

He  looked  at  her  in  surprise.  "Of  course  you'd  live  with 
us !  You  can't  want  to  stay  here !" 

"But  why  not?"  said  Juliet.  "They  are  very  kind  to  me. 
I  am  very  happy  here." 

"Oh,  nonsense !"  said  the  squire.  "You  couldn't  do  that.  I 
believe  you're  afraid  I  want  to  make  a  slave  of  you." 

"No,  I  am  not  afraid  of  that,"  said  Juliet.  "But  go  on, 
if  you  don't  mind!  What  happens  after  ten  o'clock?" 

"Well,  she  opens  her  letters,"  said  the  squire.  "Tells  you 
what  wants  answering  and  how  to  answer  it.  P'raps  you 
read  the  papers  to  her  for  a  bit  before  she  gets  up,  and  so  on." 

"Does  that  take  the  whole  morning?"  asked  Juliet. 

"No.  She's  down  about  twelve.  Sometimes  she  goes  for 
a  ride  then,  if  she  feels  like  it.  Or  she  walks  about  the 
grounds,  or  drives  out  in  the  dog-cart.  She's  very  keen  on 
horses.  Then  either  she  goes  out  to  lunch  or  someone  lunches 
with  us.  And  after  that  she's  off  in  the  car  for  a  fifty-mile 


68  The  Obstacle  Race 

run— or  a  hundred  if  the  mood  takes  her.  She's  never  quiet 
— except  when  she's  in  bed.  That's  what  I  want  you  for. 
I  want  you  to  keep  her  quiet." 

"Oh!"  said  Juliet. 

This  was  shedding  a  new  light  upon  the  matter.  She 
looked  at  him  somewhat  dubiously. 

"Come !  I  know  you  can,"  he  said.  "You've  been  through 
the  treadmill.  You  know  all  about  it  and  it  doesn't  attract 
you.  This  infernal  chase  after  excitement — it's  like  a 
spreading  fever.  There's  no  peace  for  anyone  now-a-days. 
I  want  you  to  stop  it.  You've  got  that  sort  of  influence.  I 
sensed  it  directly  I  saw  you.  You've  got  that  priceless  pos- 
session— a  quiet  spirit.  She  wouldn't  go  tearing  over  the 
country  racing  and  gambling  and  then  card-playing  far  into 
the  night  if  you  were  there  to  pull  her  up.  She'd  be  ashamed 
— with  anyone  like  you  looking  on." 

"Would  she  ?"  said  Juliet.  "I  wonder.  And  how  do  you 
know  that  that  sort  of  thing  doesn't  attract  me?" 

"Of  course  I  know  it.  You  carry  it  in  your  face.  You're 
a  woman — not  a  dancing  marionette.  You  wouldn't  despise 
a  woman's  duties  because  they  interfered  with  pleasure.  You 
were  made  in  a  different  mould.  Anyone  can  see  that." 

Juliet  was  smiling  a  little.  "I  can't  claim  to  be  anything 
very  great,"  she  said.  "But  certainly,  I  was  never  very  fond 
of  cards." 

"Of  course  you  weren't.  You've  too  much  sense  to  do 
anything  to  excess.  Now  look  here,  Miss  Moore !  You're 
coming,  aren't  you  ?  You'll  give  the  thing  a  trial.  I  promise 
you,  you  shan't  be  bullied  or  overworked.  It's  such  an  op- 
portunity, for  my  wife  really  has  taken  a  fancy  to  you.  And 
she  can  be  quite  decent  to  anyone  when  she  likes.  You  can 
bring  the  dog  along,"  continued  the  squire.  "You  can  have 
your  own  sitting  room — your  own  maid,  if  you  want  one. 


The  Offer  69 

You  can  come  and  go  as  you  choose.  No  one  will  interfere 
with  you.  All  I  want  you  to  do  is  to  put  the  brake  on  my 
wife,  make  her  take  an  interest  in  her  home,  make  her  take 
life  seriously.  She's  not  at  all  strong.  She  doesn't  give 
herself  a  chance.  Unless  I  fetch  in  a  doctor  and  practically 
keep  her  in  bed  by  main  force  she  never  gets  any  decent 
rest.  Why,  she's  hardly  ever  in  her  room  before  two  in 
the  morning.  It's  almost  a  form  of  madness  with  her,  this 
ceaseless  round.  I  can't  prevent  it.  I'm  a  busy  man  myself." 
He  suddenly  got  to  his  feet  with  a  jerk  and  stood  looking 
down  at  her  with  sombre  eyes.  "I'm  a  busy  man,"  he  re- 
peated. "I  have  my  ambitions,  and  I  work  for  them.  I 
work  hard.  But  the  one  thing  I  want  more  than  anything 
else  on  earth  is  a  son  to  succeed  me.  And  if  I  can't  have 
that — there's  nothing  else  that  counts." 

He  spoke  with  bitter  vehemence,  beating  restlessly  against 
his  heel  with  his  whip.  But  Juliet  still  sat  silent,  looking  out 
before  her  at  the  golden  pink  of  the  apple-trees  in  the  sunset 
light  with  grave  quiet  eyes. 

He  went  on  morosely,  egotistically,  "I  don't  know  what 
I've  done  that  I  shouldn't  have  what  practically  every 
labourer  on  my  estate  has  got.  I  may  not  have  been  abso- 
lutely impeccable  in  my  youth.  I've  never  yet  met  a  man 
who  was — with  the  single  exception  of  Dick  Green  who 
hasn't  much  temptation  to  be  anything  else.  But  I've  lived 
straight  on  the  whole.  I've  played  the  game — or  tried  to. 
And  yet — after  five  years  of  marriage — I'm  still  without  an 
heir,  and  likely  to  remain  so,  as  far  as  I  can  see.  She  says 
I'm  mad  on  that  point."  He  spoke  resentfully.  "But  after 
all,  it's  what  I  married  for.  I  don't  see  why  I  should  be 
cheated  out  of  the  one  thing  I  want  most,  do  you  ?" 

Juliet's  eyes  came  up  to  his,  slowly,  somewhat  reluctantly. 
"I'm  afraid  I  haven't  much  sympathy  with  you,"  she  said. 


7°  The  Obstacle  Race 

"You  haven't  ?"  he  looked  amazed. 

"No."  She  paused  a  moment.  "It  was  a  pity  you  told  me. 
You  see,  a  woman  doesn't  care  to  be  married — just  for  that." 

"And  what  do  you  suppose  she  married  me  for?"  he  de- 
manded indignantly.  "Do  you  think  she  was  in  love  with 
me — a  man  thirty  years  older  than  herself?  Oh,  I  assure 
you,  there  were  never  any  illusions  on  that  score !  I  had  a 
good  deal  to  offer  her,  and  she  jumped  at  it." 

Juliet  gave  a  slight  shiver,  and  abruptly  her  manner 
changed. 

"I'm  sorry.  Put  my  foot  in  it  again,  have  I  ?  You'll  have 
to  forgive  me,  please.  No,  I  shouldn't  have  told  you.  But 
you've  got  such  a  kind  look  about  you — as  if  you'd  under- 
stand." 

She  was  touched  in  spite  of  herself.  She  got  up  quickly 
and  faced  him.  "What  I  can't  understand,"  she  said,  a  ring 
of  deep  feeling  in  her  voice,  "is  how  anyone  can  possibly 
barter  their  happiness,  their  self-respect,  all  that  is  most 
worth  having,  for  this  world's  goods,  this  world's  ambitions, 
and  expect  to  come  out  of  it  anything  but  losers.  Oh,  I 
know  it's  done  every  day.  People  fight  and  scramble — yes, 
and  grovel  in  the  mud — for  what  they  think  is  gold ;  and 
when  they've  got  it,  it's  only  the  basest  alloy.  Some  of 
them  never  find  it  out.  Others  do — and  break  their  hearts." 

He  stared  at  her.    "You  speak  as  one  who  knows." 

"I  do  know,"  she  said.  "Since  I've  been  here,  had  time 
to  think,  I've  realized  it  more  and  more.  This  dreadful 
fight  for  front  places,  for  prosperity — this  rooted,  individual 
selfishness — the  hopeless  materialism  of  it  all — the  ultimate 
ruin — ."  She  broke  off.  "You'll  take  me  for  a  street  ranter 
if  I  go  on.  But  it's  rather  piteous  to  see  people  straining 
and  agonizing  after  what  after  all,  can  never  bring  them 
any  comfort." 


The  Offer  71 

"But  that's  just  what  I  was  saying,"  he  protested. 

Her  frank  eyes  looked  straight  into  his.  "But  you're  doing 
it  yourself  all  the  same,"  she  said.  "You're  playing  for  your 
own  hand  all  the  time  and  so  you're  a  loser  and  always  will 
be.  It's  the  chief  rule  of  the  game."  She  smiled  faintly. 
"Please  forgive  me  for  telling  you  so,  but  I've  only  just 
found  it  out  for  myself  ;  so  I  had  to  tell  someone." 

"You're  rather  a  wonderful  young  woman,"  said  the  squire, 
still  staring. 

She  shook  her  head.  "Oh,  no,  I'm  not.  I've  just  begun 
to  use  my  brains,  that's  all.  They're  nothing  at  all  out  of 
the  ordinary,  really." 

He  laughed.  "Well,  you've  given  me  a  pretty  straight 
one  anyway.  Have  you  got  a  home  anywhere — any  home 
people  ?" 

"None  that  count,"  said  Juliet. 

"Been  more  or  less  of  a  looker-on  all  your  life,  eh?"  he 
suggested. 

"More  or  less,"  smiled  Juliet. 

He  held  out  his  hand  to  her  abruptly.  "Look  here! 
You're  coming,  aren't  you?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Juliet. 

"Well,  make  up  your  mind  quick!"  He  held  her  hand, 
looking  at  her.  "What's  the  objection?  Tell  me?" 

She  freed  her  hand  gently  but  with  decision.  "I  can't  tell 
you  entirely.  You  must  let  me  think.  For  one  thing,  I 
want  more  freedom  of  action  than  I  should  have  as  an  inmate 
of  your  house.  I  want  to  come  and  go  as  I  like.  I've  never 
really  done  that  before,  and  I'm  just  beginning  to  enjoy  it." 

"That's  a  selfish  reason,"  said  the  squire,  with  a  sudden 
boyish  grin  at  her. 

She  coloured  slightly.    "No,  it  isn't— or  not  wholly." 

"All  right,  it  isn't.     I  unsay  it.     But  that  reason  won't 


72  The  Obstacle  Race 

exist  as  far  as  you  are  concerned.  You  will  come  and  go 
exactly  as  you  like  always.  No  one  will  question  you." 

"You're  very  kind,"  said  Juliet. 

He  bowed  to  her  ceremoniously.  "That's  the  first  really 
nice  thing  you  have  said  to  me.  I  must  make  a  note  of  it. 
Now  would  you  like  my  wife  to  call  upon  you?  If  so,  I'll 
send  her  round  to-morrow  at  twelve." 

"If  she  would  care  to  come,"  said  Juliet. 

"Of  course  she  would.  She  shall  come  then — and  you'll 
talk  things  over,  and  come  to  an  understanding.  That's 
settled,  is  it?  Good-bye!" 

He  turned  to  go,  pausing  at  the  gate  to  throw  her  another 
smiling  farewell.  She  had  not  thought  that  gloomy,  black 
browed  countenance  could  look  so  genial.  There  was  some- 
thing curiously  elusive,  almost  haunting,  about  his  smile. 

"Columbus !"  said  Juliet.  "I'm  not  sure  that  he's  a  very 
nice  man,  but  there's  something  about  him — something  I 
can't  quite  place — that  makes  me  wonder  if  I've  met  him 
somewhere  before.  Would  you  like  to  go  and  live  at  the 
Court,  Columbus?" 

Columbus  leaned  against  her  knee  in  sentimental  silence. 
He  evidently  did  not  care  where  he  went  so  long  as  he  was 
with  the  object  of  his  whole-souled  devotion. 

She  stooped  and  kissed  him  between  the  eyes.  "Dear 
doggie!"  she  murmured.  "I  wonder — are  we  happier — 
here?" 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MRS.  FIELDING 

WHEN  the  great  high-powered  car  from  Shale  Court 
stopped  at  the  gate  of  the  blacksmith's  cottage  on  the  fol- 
lowing morning  Mrs.  Rickett,  who  was  feeding  her  young 
chicks  in  the  yard  outside  the  forge,  was  thrown  into  a  state 
of  wild  agitation.  Everyone  in  Little  Shale  stood  in  awe  of 
the  squire's  wife. 

She  went  nervously  to  inquire  what  was  wanted,  and  met 
the  chauffeur  at  the  gate. 

"It's  all  right,  Mrs.  Rickett.  Don't  fluster  yourself !"  he 
said.  "It's  Miss  Moore  we're  after.  Go  and  tell  her,  will 
you?" 

Mrs.  Rickett  looked  at  the  bold-eyed  young  man  with  dis- 
favour. "Well,  you're  not  expecting  her  to  come  out  to  you, 
are  you?"  she  retorted  tartly. 

He  smiled.  "Yes,  I  rather  think  we  are,  Mrs.  Fielding 
doesn't  want  to  get  out.  Where  is  she?" 

Mrs.  Ricke* '  drew  in  her  breath.  "But  Miss  Moore  is  a 
lady  born!"  <,ne  objected.  "Haven't  you  got  a  card  I  can 
take  her  ?" 

Mrs.  Rickett  had  lived  among  the  gentry  in  her  maiden 
days,  and,  as  she  was  wont  to  assert,  she  knew  what  was  what 
as  well  as  anybody.  She  had,  moreover,  a  vigorous  dislike 
for  young  Jack  Green  the  chauffeur  who,  notwithstanding  his 
airs, — perhaps  because  of  them, — occupied  a  much  lower 
plane  in  her  estimation  than  his  brother  the  schoolmaster. 

73 


74  The  Obstacle  Race 

But  Jack  was  one  of  those  people  whom  it  is  practically 
impossible  to  snub.  He  merely  continued  to  smile. 

"Well,  you'd  better  let  me  go  and  find  her  if  you  won't," 
he  said,  "or  madam  will  be  getting  impatient." 

It  was  at  this  point  that  Juliet  came  upon  the  scene,  walk- 
ing up  from  the  shore  with  her  hair  blowing  in  the  breeze. 
She  carried  a  towel  and  a  bathing  dress  on  her  arm.  Colum- 
bus trotted  beside  her,  full  of  cheery  self-importance. 

She  quickened  her  pace  somewhat  at  sight  of  the  car,  and 
its  occupant  leant  forward  with  an  imperious  motion  of  the 
hand.  Her  pale  face  gleamed  behind  her  veil. 

"Miss  Moore,  I  believe?"  she  said,  in  her  slightly  insolent 
tones. 

Juliet  came  to  the  side  of  the  car.  The  sun  beat  down 
upon  her  uncovered  head.  She  smiled  a  welcome. 

"How  do  you  do  ?  How  kind  of  you  to  come  and  see  me ! 
I  am  sorry  I  wasn't  here  to  receive  you,  but  it  was  so  glorious 
down  on  the  shore  that  I  stayed  to  dry  my  hair.  Do  come 
in!" 

"Oh,  I  can't— really !"  protested  Mrs.  Fielding.  "I  shall 
die  if  I  don't  get  a  little  air.  I  thought  perhaps  you  would 
like  to  come  for  a  little  spin  with  me.  But  I  suppose  that 
is  out  of  the  question." 

"My  hair  is  quite  dry,"  said  Juliet.  "It  won't  take  me 
long  to  put  it  up.  I  should  like  to  come  with  you  very  much." 

"I  can't  wait,"  said  Mrs.  Fielding  plaintively.  "This  heat 
is  so  fearful — and  the  glare!  I  will  go  for  a  short  round, 
and  come  back  for  you  if  you  like." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Juliet.    "I  can  be  ready  in  five  minutes." 

"I  should  be  grilled  by  that  time,"  declared  Mrs.  Fielding. 
"Jack,  we  will  go  round  by  the  station  and  back  by  the  church. 
It  is  only  three  miles.  We  can  do  that  easily.  In  five 
minutes  then,  Miss  Moore!" 


Mrs.  Fielding  75 

"Look  out  for  the  schoolchildren!"  exclaimed  Juliet 
almost  involuntarily.  "They  are  sure  to  be  all  over  the  road." 

"Oh,  really!"  said  Mrs.  Fielding,  sinking  back  into  the 
car,  as  it  swooped  away. 

Juliet  and  Mrs.  Rickett  looked  at  one  another. 

"That  young  Jack  Green  fair  riles  me,"  remarked  the 
latter.  "I  can't  abide  him.  He's  not  a  patch  on  his  brother, 
and  never  will  be.  It's  funny,  you  know,  how  members  of 
a  family  vary.  Now  you  couldn't  have  a  more  courteous 
and  pleasant  spoken  gentleman  than  Dick.  But  this  Jack, 
why,  he  hasn't  even  the  beginnings  of  a  gentleman  in  him." 

Juliet's  thoughts  were  more  occupied  with  Mrs.  Fielding 
at  the  moment,  but  she  kept  them  to  herself.  "I  may  be  late 
back,  Mrs.  Rickett,"  she  said.  "Let  me  have  a  cold  lunch 
when  I  come  in!" 

"Oh,  dearie  me!"  said  Mrs.  Rickett.  "I  do  hope,  miss, 
as  young  Jack'll  drive  careful  when  he's  got  you  in  the  car." 

Juliet  hoped  so  too  as  she  hastened  within  to  prepare  for 
the  expedition.  She  did  not  feel  any  very  keen  zest  for  it, 
but,  as  she  told  Columbus,  they  need  never  go  again  if  they 
didn't  like  it. 

It  was  nearly  ten  minutes  before  the  Fielding  car  reap- 
peared, and  they  were  both  waiting  at  the  garden-gate  as  it 
drew  up. 

"Yes,  we  were  delayed,"  said  Mrs.  Fielding  pettishly,  "by 
those  little  fiends  of  children.  I  do  think  Mr.  Green  might 
teach  them  to  keep  to  the  side  of  the  road.  Pray  get  in, 
Miss  Moore!  Oh,  do  you  want  to  bring  your  dog?" 

"He  is  used  to  motoring,"  said  Juliet.  "Do  you  mind  if 
he  sits  in  front?" 

Mrs.  Fielding  shrugged  her  shoulders  to  indicate  that  it 
was  a  matter  of  supreme  indifference  to  her,  and  Columbus 
was  duly  installed  by  the  driver's  side.  Juliet  took  her  place 


76  The  Obstacle  Race 

beside  Mrs.  Fielding,  and  in  a  few  seconds  they  were  whirling 
up  the  road  again,  leaving  clouds  of  dust  in  their  wake. 

"It's  the  only  way  one  can  breathe  on  a  day  like  this,"  said 
Mrs.  Fielding. 

Juliet  said  nothing.  She  was  watching  the  village  children 
scatter  like  rabbits  before  their  lightning  rush. 

In  the  schoolhouse  garden  she  caught  sight  of  a  heavy, 
shambling  figure,  and  waved  a  swift  greeting  as  she  flashed 
past. 

"Oh,  do  you  know  that  revolting  youth?"  said  Mrs.  Field- 
ing. "He's  half-witted  as  well  as  deformed.  His  brother !" 
with  a  nod  towards  her  chauffeur's  back.  "He's  a  great  trial 
to  Jack,  I  believe.  My  husband  has  offered  a  hundred  times 
to  have  him  put  into  a  home,  but  the  other  brother — Green, 
the  schoolmaster — is  absolutely  pig-headed  on  the  subject, 
and  won't  hear  of  it." 

"Poor  Robin !"  said  Juliet  gently.  "Yes,  I  know  him.  He 
is  certainly  not  normal,  but  scarcely  half-witted,  do  you 
think?" 

Mrs.  Fielding  turned  her  head  to  bestow  upon  her  a  brief 
glance  of  surprise.  "I  said  half-witted,"  she  observed 
haughtily. 

Juliet  turned  her  head  also,  and  gave  her  companion  a 
straight  and  level  look.  "And  I  did  not  agree  with  you,"  she 
said  quietly. 

Mrs.  Fielding  uttered  a  laugh  that  had  a  girlish  ring  de- 
spite its  insolence.  "Have  you  said  that  to  my  husband  yet  ?" 
she  asked. 

"Not  quite  that,"  said  Juliet. 

"Well,  if  you  ever  do,  may  I  be  there  to  hear !"  she  rejoined 
flippantly.  "He's  like  a  raging  bull  when  he's  crossed.  I 
hear  he  came  to  see  you  yesterday." 

"He  did,"  said  Juliet. 


Mrs.  Fielding  77 

"Did  he  talk  about  me?"  asked  Mrs.  Fielding. 

"He  told  me  that  you  were  not  very  strong,"  said  Juliet. 

"And  that  I  wanted  someone  to  look  after  me — coerce  me, 
when  he  wasn't  there  to  do  it  himself.  Was  that  it?" 

"Surely  you  know  better  than  that !"  said  Juliet. 

"Oh,  I  know  him  awfully  well,"  said  Mrs.  Fielding,  with 
her  reckless  laugh.  "Are  you  really  thinking  of  coming  to 
live  with  us  ?" 

"You  haven't  asked  me  yet,"  said  Juliet. 

"Oh,  that  doesn't  matter.  You'll  come  if  you  think  you 
will;  and  if  you  don't,  nothing  will  induce  you.  But — let 
me  tell  you — my  husband  will  be  furious — with  me — if  you 
don't." 

"Oh,  surely  not!"  said  Juliet. 

"Yes,  he  is  that  sort.  If  he  doesn't  get  what  he  wants, 
it's  always  someone  else's  fault — generally  mine.  I  warn 
you — we  have  most  frightful  rows  sometimes.  He  has  only 
just  begun  to  speak  to  me  again  since  last  Sunday.  We 
quarrelled  that  day  over  Green.  You  know  Green — the 
schoolmaster — don't  you  ?" 

"Yes,  I  think  I  might  call  him  a  friend  of  mine,"  said 
Juliet,  with  a  smile. 

"Oh,  really!  I  didn't  know  that,"  Mrs.  Fielding's  tone 
was  suddenly  extremely  cold.  "Hence  your  championship 
of  Robin,  I  suppose?" 

"No,  I  made  friends  with  Robin  separately.  He  is  coming 
to  tea  with  me  to-day,  or  rather,  we  are  going  down  to  the 
shore  with  it.  I  love  the  shore  in  the  evening. 

"I  wonder  you  care  to  mix  with  people  like  that,"  remarked 
Mrs.  Fielding.  "I  think  it  is  such  a  mistake  to  take  them 
out  of  their  own  class.  Green  the  schoolmaster  is  a  con- 
stant visitor  up  at  the  court,  and  I  object  to  it  very  strongly. 
I  cannot  understand  my  husband's  attitude  in  the  matter." 


78  The  Obstacle  Race 

"But  he  is  a  gentleman !"  said  Juliet. 

"Who?  Green?  Oh  yes,  of  sorts.  I  am  glad  to  say  his 
brother  has  no  aspirations  in  that  direction."  Mrs.  Field- 
ing glanced  again  towards  her  chauffeur's  unconscious 
back.  "Or  if  he  has,  I  don't  get  the  benefit  of  them.  As 
for  Robin,  he  gives  me  the  cold  shudders  every  time  I  see 
him." 

"Poor  Robin!"  said  Juliet  again.  "I  think  he  feels  his 
deformity  very  much." 

"Of  course  he  does!  He  ought  to  be  in  a  home  among 
his  own  kind.  It  would  be  far  better  for  everyone  concerned. 
Frankly,  the  Green  family  exasperate  me,"  declared  Mrs. 
Fielding.  "I  can  put  up  with  Jack.  He's  such  a  smart, 
good  looking  boy,  and  he  can  drive  like  the  devil.  But  I've 
no  use  for  the  other  two,  and  never  shall  have.  I  think 
Green's  a  humbug.  Is  he  going  to  join  your  picnic-party 
on  the  shore?" 

"He  hasn't  been  invited,"  said  Juliet. 

"Oh,  you  won't  find  he  needs  much  encouragement.  As 
Dene  Strange  puts  it,  he  is  always  hovering  on  the  outside 
edge  of  every  circle  and  ready  to  squeeze  in  at  the  very  first 
opportunity." 

"I  should  imagine  my  circle  is  hardly  important  enough 
to  attract  anyone  in  that  way,"  remarked  Juliet.  "Strange 
is  very  caustic.  I  am  not  sure  I  like  him  much." 

"Oh,  I  enjoy  him,"  said  Mrs.  Fielding.  "He  is  so  brilliant. 
He  always  gets  right  there.  You  have  never  met  him,  I 


suppose 


Juliet  shook  her  head.  "Not  under  that  name,  anyway. 
They  say  he  is  a  barrister.  But  I  haven't  much  sympathy 
with  a  man  who  hides  behind  a  pseudonym,  have  you?  It 
looks  as  if  he  hasn't  the  courage  of  his  opinions." 

"I  shouldn't  think  anyone  ever  accused  Dene  Strange  of 


Mrs.  Fielding  79 

lack  of  courage,"  said  Mrs.  Fielding.    "I  read  all  he  writes. 
He  is  so  intensely  clever." 

"Some  people  think  he's  a  woman,"  said  Juliet. 

"Oh  I  don't  believe  that.  Neither  do  you.  No  woman 
ever  had  a  brain  like  that.  It's  quite  Napoleonic.  I'd  give  a 
good  deal  to  meet  him." 

"And  be  horribly  disappointed,"  said  Juliet. 

"Why  do  you  say  that?" 

"Because  lions  always  are  disappointing  when  they're 
hunted  down.  The  ones  that  roar  are  quite  insufferable, 
and  the  ones  that  don't  are  just  banal." 

Mrs.  Fielding  looked  at  her  with  interest  for  the 
first  time.  "You've  seen  a  good  deal  of  life,"  she 
remarked. 

"Oh,  no !"  said  Juliet  lightly.  "But  enough  to  realize  that 
the  torch  of  genius  burns  best  in  dark  places.  Perhaps 
Strange  is  right  after  all — from  his  own  point  of  view  at 
least.  That  lion-hunting  business  is  so  revolting." 

"You  speak  as  one  who  knows,"  said  Mrs.  Fielding. 

Juliet  smiled.  "I  have  watched  from  the  outside  edge, 
as  Dene  Strange  puts  it.  I  expect  you  have  heard  of  the 
Farringmores,  haven't  you?  I  am  distantly  related  to  them. 
I  was  brought  up  with  Lady  Joanna.  So  I  know  a  little  of 
what  London  people  call  life." 

"I  saw  you  had  been  in  society,"  said  Mrs.  Fielding  half 
enviously. 

"Yes,  I  have  had  five  seasons — nearly  six.  And  I  never 
want  another."  Juliet  spoke  with  great  emphasis.  "That's 
why  I'm  here  now." 

"I  wonder  you  never  married,"  said  Mrs.  Fielding. 

"Do  you?"  Juliet  spoke  dreamily.  They  were  running 
swiftly  up  a  steep  and  stony  road  leading  to  High  Shale 
Point.  "Lady  Jo  used  to  wonder  that.  But  I've  never  yet 


8o  The  Obstacle  Race 

met  a  man  who  was  willing  to  wait,  and  I  couldn't  do  a  thing 
like  that  in  a  hurry." 

"You  could  if  you  were  in  love,"  said  Mrs.  Fielding. 

"Yes,  perhaps  you're  right.  In  that  case,  I  have  never 
been  enough  in  love  to  take  the  leap."  Juliet  spoke  with  a 
half  smile.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  top  of  the  hill. 
"But  anyhow  Lady  Jo  couldn't  talk,  for  she  has  just  jilted 
Ivor  Yardley  the  K.  C.  and  gone  to  Paris  to  buy  mourning." 

"Good  gracious !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Fielding.  "Why,  I  saw 
the  description  of  the  wedding-dress  in  the  paper  the  other 
day.  It  must  have  been  a  near  thing." 

"It  was,"  said  Juliet  soberly.  "They  were  to  have  been 
married  to-day." 

"And  she  broke  it  off !    That  must  have  taken  some  pluck !" 

"But  she  didn't  stay  to  face  the  music,"  Juliet  pointed  out. 
"That  was  what  I  hated  in  her.  She  ought  to  have  stayed." 

"Was  she  afraid  of  him  then?" 

"Afraid?  Yes,  she  was  afraid  of  him — and  of  everybody 
else.  I  know  that  perfectly  well,  though  you  would  never 
get  her  to  admit  it.  She  was  terrified  in  her  heart — and  so 
she  bolted." 

"Why  didn't  you  go  with  her?"  asked  Mrs.  Fielding. 

Juliet  made  an  odd  gesture  of  the  hands  that  was  some- 
how passionate.  "Why  should  I?  I  have  disapproved  of 
her  for  a  long  time.  Now  we  have  finally  quarrelled.  She 
behaved  so  badly — so  very  badly.  I  don't  want  to  meet  her 
— or  any  of  her  set — again!" 

Mrs.  Fielding  was  silent  for  a  moment.  She  had  not  ex- 
pected that  intensity.  "Do  you  know,  that  doesn't  sound 
like  you  somehow?"  she  said  at  length,  speaking  with  just 
a  hint  of  embarrassment. 

"But  how  do  you  know  what  I  am  really  like  ?"  said  Juliet. 
"Ah !  There  is  the  sea  again — and  the  wonderful  sky-line ! 


Mrs.  Fielding  81 

Is  he  going  to  stop?  Or  are  we  going  to  plunge  over  the 
edge?" 

She  spoke  with  a  little  breathless  laugh.  They  had 
reached  the  summit  of  the  great  headland,  and  it  looked  for 
the  moment  as  if  the  car  must  leap  over  a  sheer  precipice 
into  the  clear  green  water  far  below.  But  even  as  she  spoke, 
there  came  a  check  and  a  pause,  and  then  they  were  standing 
still  on  a  smooth  stretch  of  grass  not  twenty  feet  from  the 
edge. 

The  soft  wind  blew  in  their  faces,  and  there  was  a  glit- 
tering purity  in  the  atmosphere  that  held  Juliet  spell-bound. 
She  breathed  deeply,  gazing  far  out  over  that  sparkling  sea 
of  wonder. 

"Oh,  the  magic  of  it!"  she  said.  "The  glorious  freedom! 
It  makes  you  feel — as  if  you  had  been  born  again." 

Her  companion  watched  her  in  silence,  a  certain  curiosity 
in  her  look. 

After  many  seconds  Juliet  turned  round.  "Thank  you 
for  bringing  me  here,"  she  said.  "It  has  done  me  good.  I 
should  like  to  stay  here  all  day  long." 

Her  eyes  travelled  along  the  line  of  cliff  towards  that  dis- 
tant spot  that  had  been  the  scene  of  her  night  adventure, 
and  slowly  returned  to  dwell  upon  a  long  deep  seam  in  the 
side  of  the  hill. 

"That's  the  lead  mine,"  observed  Mrs.  Kidding.  "It  be- 
longs to  your  aristocratic  relatives,  the  Farringmores.  They 
are  pretty  badly  hated  by  the  miners,  I  believe.  But  your 
friend  Mr.  Green  is  extremely  popular  with  them.  He  rather 
likes  to  be  a  king  among  cobblers,  I  imagine." 

"How  nice  of  him!"  said  Juliet.  "And  where  do  the 
cobblers  live?" 

"You  can't  see  it  from  here.  It's  just  on  the  other  side 
of  the  workings — a  horribly  squalid  place.  I  never  go  near 


82  The  Obstacle  Race 

it.  It's  called  High  Shale,  but  it's  very  low  really,  right  in 
a  pocket  of  the  hills,  and  very  unhealthy.  You  can  see  the 
smoke  hanging  over  there  now.  The  cottages  are  wretched 
places,  and  the  people  who  live  in  them — words  fail.  Ash- 
cott,  the  agent  and  manager  of  the  mines,  says  they  are 
quite  hopeless,  and  so  they  are.  They  are  just  like  pigs  in  a 
sty." 

"Poor  dears!"  said  Juliet. 

"Oh,  they're  horrors!"  declared  Mrs.  Fielding.  "They 
fling  stones  at  the  car  if  we  go  within  half-a-mile  of  them. 
And  they  are  such  a  drunken  set.  Go  round  the  other  way, 
Jack, — round  by  Fairharbour!  Miss  Moore  will  enjoy 
that." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Juliet,  with  her  friendly  smile.  "I  am 
enjoying  it  very  much." 

They  travelled  forty  miles  before  they  ran  back  again  into 
Little  Shale,  and  the  children  were  reassembling  for  after- 
noon school  as  they  neared  the  Court  gates. 

"Put  me  down  here !"  Juliet  said.  "I  can  run  down  the 
hill.  It  isn't  worth  while  coming  those  few  yards  and  having 
to  turn  the  car." 

"I  want  you  to  lunch  with  me,"  said  Mrs.  Fielding. 

"Oh,  thank  you  very  much.  Not  to-day.  I  really  must  get 
back.  I've  got  to  buy  cakes  for  tea,"  laughed  Juliet. 

Mrs.  Fielding  stopped  the  car  abruptly.  "I'm  not  going 
to  press  you,  or  you'll  never  come  near  me  again,"  she  said. 
"I  never  press  people  to  do  what  they  obviously  don't  want  to. 
Do  you  think  you  would  hate  living  with  me,  Miss  Moore  ? 
Or  are  you  still  giving  the  matter  your  consideration?" 

There  was  a  hint  of  wistfulness  in  the  arrogant  voice  that 
somehow  touched  Juliet. 

She  sat  silent  for  a  moment;  then:  "If  I  might  come  to 
you  for  a  week  on  trial,"  she  said.  "You  won't  pay  me  any- 


Mrs.  Fielding  83 

thing  of  course.  I  think  we  should  know  by  that  time  if  it 
were  likely  to  answer  or  not." 

"When  will  you  come?"  said  Mrs.  Fielding. 

"Just  when  you  like,"  said  Juliet. 

"To-morrow  ?" 

"Yes,  to-morrow,  if  that  suits  you." 

"And  if  you  don't  hate  me  at  the  end  of  a  week  you'll 
come  for  good." 

Juliet  laughed.  "No,  I  won't  say  that.  I'll  leave  you  a 
way  of  escape  too.  We  will  see  how  it  answers." 

Mrs.  Fielding  held  out  her  hand.  "Good-bye!  Next  time 
you  take  your  tea  on  the  shore,  I  want  to  be  the  guest  of 
honour." 

"You  shall  be,"  said  Juliet. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  INTRUDER 

"EVERYONE  to  his  taste,"  remarked  Green.  "But  I'd 
rather  be  anything  under  the  sun  than  Mrs.  Fielding's  paid 
companion."  He  glanced  at  Juliet  with  a  smile  as  he  spoke, 
but  there  was  a  certain  earnestness  in  his  speech  that  told 
her  he  meant  what  he  said.  He  sat  with  his  back  to  a  rock, 
smoking  a  cigarette.  His  attitude  was  one  of  repose,  but 
in  the  strong  light  his  dark  face  showed  a  tenseness  that  did 
not  wholly  agree  with  it. 

"Do  you  really  think  you'll  like  it  ?"  he  asked,  as  Juliet  did 
not  speak. 

She  also  had  a  cigarette  between  her  lips,  and  there  was 
genuine  relaxation  in  her  fashion  of  lounging  on  the  shingle. 

"I  really  don't  know,"  she  said.    "I've  got  to  find  out." 

"Don't  let  them  bully  you !"  said  Green. 

She  smiled.  "No,  they  won't  do  that,  I  think  it  is  rather 
kind  of  them  to  take  me  without  references,  don't  you  ?" 

"No,"  said  Green. 

She  turned  and  surveyed  him  with  a  gleam  of  amusement 
in  her  look.  "You  sound  cross !  Are  you  cross  about  any- 
thing?" 

His  eyes  flashed  down  to  hers  with  a  suddenness  almost 
startling.  He  did  not  speak  for  a  moment,  then  again  he 
smiled  abruptly  with  his  eyes  still  holding  hers.  "I  believe 
I  am,"  he  said. 

84 


The  Intruder  85 

"I  wonder  why,"  said  Juliet. 

He  laughed.  "Yes,  you  do,  don't  you?  Great  impertin- 
ence on  my  part  of  course.  It's  nice  of  you  to  put  it  so 
mildly." 

"I  don't  think  you  impertinent,"  said  Juliet ;  "only  rather 
silly." 

"Oh,  thanks !  "  said  Green.  "Kinder  and  kinder.  Silly 
to  be  cross  on  your  account,  is  that  it?  Well,  it  certainly 
sounds  silly." 

Juliet  smiled.  "No,  silly  to  think  I  am  not  capable  of 
taking  care  of  myself." 

"Oh !"  said  Green.  "Well,  I  have  some  reason  for  think- 
ing that,  haven't  I  ?" 

"None  whatever,"  said  Juliet. 

"All  right.    I  haven't,"  he  said,  and  looked  away. 

"You  are  cross!"  ejaculated  Juliet,  and  broke  into  a, 
laugh. 

Green  smoked  steadily  for  some  seconds  with  his  eyes 
upon  the  sea.  A  few  yards  below  them  Robin  wandered 
bare- footed  along  the  shore,  accompanied  by  Columbus  who 
had  bestowed  a  condescending  species  of  friendship  upon 
him. 

Green's  dark,  alert  face  looked  strangely  swarthy  against 
the  rock  behind  him.  His  expression  was  one  of  open  dis- 
content. 

"I  hate  to  think  of  you  turning  into  that  woman's  slave," 
he  said  abruptly.  "To  be  quite  honest,  that  was  what  brought 
me  along  to-day,  intruding  upon  your  picnic  with  Robin.  I 
want  to  warn  you,  I've  got  to  warn  you." 

"You  have  warned  me,"  said  Juliet. 

"Without  result,"  he  said. 

"No,  not  without  result.  I  am  very  grateful  to  you,  and 
I  shall  remember  your  warning." 


86  The  Obstacle  Race 

"But  you  won't  profit  by  it,"  Green's  voice  was  moody. 

"I  think  I  shall,"  she  said.  "In  any  case,  I  am  only  going 
for  a  week  on  trial.  That  couldn't  hurt  anyone." 

He  did  not  look  at  her.  "You're  going  out  of  the  goodness 
of  your  heart,"  he  said.  "And — though  you  won't  like  it — 
you'll  stay  for  the  same  reason." 

"Oh,  don't  you  think  you  are  rather  absurd?"  said  Juliet. 
"I  am  not  at  all  that  sort  of  person,  I  assure  you." 

"I  think  you  are,"  said  Green. 

She  laughed  again.  "Well  I  am  told  you  are  quite  a 
frequent  visitor  there.  Why  do  you  go — if  you  don't  like 
it?" 

"That  is  different,"  he  said.  "I  can  hold  my  own — any- 
way with  Mr.  Fielding." 

She  lifted  her  brows.     "And  you  think  I  can't?" 

"I  think  you'll  lead  a  dog's  life,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  I  hope  not.  It  won't  be  on  a  chain  anyhow.  I've 
provided  against  that." 

"You'll  hate  it,"  Green  said  with  conviction. 

"I  don't  think  I  shall,"  she  answered  quietly.  "If  I  do, 
I  shall  come  away." 

"It'll  be  too  late  then,"  he  said. 

"Too  late!"  Juliet's  soft  eyes  opened  wide.  "What  can 
you  mean  ?" 

He  made  a  gesture  which  though  half -restrained  was  yet 
vehement.  "It's  a  hostile  atmosphere — a  hateful  atmosphere. 
She  will  poison  you  with  her  sneers  and  snobbery !" 

A  light  began  to  break  upon  Juliet.  She  sat  up  very  sud- 
denly. "That  sort  of  poison  doesn't  have  any  effect  upon 
me,"  she  said,  and  she  spoke  with  a  stateliness  that  brought 
the  man's  eyes  swiftly  down  to  her.  "I  am — sneer-proof." 

"She  won't  sneer  at  you,"  said  Green  quickly. 

With  her  eyes  looking  straight  up  to  him,  she  laughed. 


The  Intruder  87 

"Oh,  I  quite  catch  your  meaning,  Mr.  Green.  But — really 
I  am  not  in  the  position  of  listening  to  sneers  against  my 
friends.  Now  will  you  be  satisfied  ?" 

He  laughed  also  though  still  with  a  touch  of  restraint. 
"Yes,  I  feel  better  for  that.  You  are  so  royal  in  your  ways. 
I  might  have  known  I  was  safe  there." 

"  'Loyal'  is  a  better  word  I  think,"  said  Juliet  quietly. 
"Why  should  a  paid  companion  aspire  to  be  any  higher  in  the 
social  scale  than  a  village  schoolmaster  ?  Do  you  think  occu- 
pation really  makes  any  difference?" 

"Theoretically — no !"  said  Green. 

"Neither  theoretically  nor  practically,"  said  Juliet.  "I  de- 
test snobbery,  so  do  you.  If  you  came  to  the  Court  to  sweep 
the  kitchen  chimney,  I  should  be  just  as  pleased  to  see  you. 
What  a  man  does  is  nothing.  How  could  it  make  any  differ- 
ence ?" 

"It  couldn't — to  you,"  said  Green. 

"Or  to  you?"  said  Juliet. 

He  laughed  a  little,  his  black  brows  working  comically. 
"Madame,  if  I  met  you  hawking  stale  fish  for  cat's  meat  in 
the  public  street,  I  couldn't  venerate  you  more  or  adore  you 
less.  Whatever  you  do — is  right." 

"Good  heavens !"  said  Juliet,  and  flushed  in  spite  of  her- 
self. "What  a  magnificent  compliment !  It's  a  pity  you  are 
not  wearing  a  slouch  hat  with  an  ostrich  plume !  You  really1 
need  a  plume  to  express  that  sort  of  sentiment  properly." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Green.  "But — I  imagine  you  are  not 
attracted  by  plumes.  In  fact,  you  have  just  told  me  so. 
Proof  positive  of  your  royalty!  It  is  only  crowned  heads 
that  can  afford  to  despise  them  nowadays." 

"Mine  isn't  a  crowned  head,"  protested  Juliet. 

He  looked  at  her  searchingly.  "Have  you  never  been  to 
Court?" 


88  The  Obstacle  Race 

She  snapped  her  fingers  airily.  "Of  course !  Dozens  of 
times !  Poor  companions  always  go  to  Court.  How  often 
do  you  go !" 

"As  often  as  you  admit  me  to  your  most  gracious  pres- 
ence," he  said. 

She  clapped  her  hands  softly.  "Why,  that  is  even  prettier 
than  the  stale  fish  one !  Mr.  Green,  what  can  have  happened 
to  you  ?" 

"I  daren't  tell  you,"  he  said. 

A  sudden  silence  fell  upon  the  words.  Juliet  puffed  the 
smoke  from  her  cigarette,  and  watched  it  rise.  "Well,  don't 
spoil  it,  will  you  ?"  she  said,  as  it  vanished  into  air. 

Green's  hand  suddenly  gripped  a  handful  of  shingle  and 
ground  it  forcibly.  He  did  not  speak  for  a  second  or  two. 
Then :  "No,  I  won't  spoil  it,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

A  moment  later  he  flung  the  stones  abruptly  from  him 
and  got  up. 

"You're  not  going?"  said  Juliet. 

"Yes,  I've  got  work  to  do.    Shall  I  take  Robin  with  me?" 

There  was  a  dogged  note  in  his  voice.  His  eyes  avoided 
hers. 

Juliet  slowly  rose.  "Never  mind  Robin!  Walk  a  little 
way  with  me !"  she  said. 

"I  think  I'd  better  go,"  said  Green  restlessly. 

"Please !"  said  Juliet  gently. 

He  turned  beside  her  without  a  word.  They  went  down 
the  shingle  to  the  edge  of  the  sand  and  began  to  walk  along 
the  shore. 

For  many  seconds  they  walked  in  silence.  Juliet's  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  the  mighty  outline  of  High  Shale  Point  that 
stood  out  like  a  fortress,  dark,  impregnable  against  the  calm 
of  the  evening  sky.  Her  companion  sauntered  beside  her. 
his  hands  behind  him.  He  had  thrown  away  his  cigarette. 


The  Intruder  89 

She  spoke  at  length,  slowly,  with  evident  effort.  "I  want 
to  tell  you — something — about  myself." 

"Something  I  really  don't  know?"  asked  Green,  his  dark 
face  flashing  to  a  smile. 

There  was  no  answering  smile  on  Juliet's  face.  "Yes, 
something  you  don't  know,"  she  said  soberly.  "It's  just  this. 
I  have  much  more  in  common  with  Mrs.  Fielding  than  you 
have  any  idea  of.  I  have  lived  for  pleasure  practically  all 
my  life.  I  have  scrambled  for  happiness  with  the  rest  of  the 
world,  and  I  haven't  found  it.  It's  only  just  lately  that  I've 
realized  why.  I  read  a  book  called  The  Valley  of  Dry 
Bones.  Do  you  know  it  ?  But  of  course  you  do.  It  is  by 
Dene  Strange.  I  hate  the  man — if  it  is  a  man.  And  I  hate 
his  work — the  bitter  cynicism  of  it,  the  merciless  exposure 
of  humanity  at  its  lowest  and  meanest.  I  don't  know  what 
his  ideals  are —  if  he  has  any.  I  think  he  is  probably  very 
wicked,  but  detestably — oh,  damnably — clever.  I  burnt  the 
book  I  hated  it  so.  But  I  felt — afterwards — as  if  I  had  been 
burnt,  seared  by  hot  irons — ashamed — most  cruelly  ashamed." 
Juliet's  voice  sank  almost  to  a  whisper.  "Because — life 
really  is  like  that — one  vast  structure  of  selfishness — and  in 
many  ways  I  have  helped  to  make  it  so." 

She  stopped.  Green  was  looking  at  her  attentively.  He 
spoke  at  once  with  decision.  "I  know  the  book.  I've  read 
it.  It's  an  exaggeration — probably  intentional.  It  wasn't 
written — obviously — for  the  super-sensitive." 

"Wasn't  it  ?"  Juliet's  lips  were  quivering.  "Well,  it's  been 
a  positive  nightmare  to  me.  I  haven't  got  over  it  yet." 

"That's  curious,"  he  said.  "I  shouldn't  have  thought  it 
oDuld  have  touched  you  anywhere." 

"That  is  because  you  have  a  totally  wrong  impression  of 
me,"  she  said.  "That  is  what  I  am  trying  to  put  right.  I 
am  the  sort  of  person  that  horrible  book  applies  to,  and  I've 


90  The  Obstacle  Race 

fallen  out  with  myself  very  badly  in  consequence,  Mr.  Green. 
I  haven't  told  anyone  but  you,  but — somehow — I  feel  as  if 
you  ought  to  know." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Green.    "But  why?" 

She  met  his  eyes  very  steadily.  "Because  I'm  trying  to 
play  the  game  now,  and — I  don't  want  you  to  have  any 
illusions." 

"You  don't  want  me  to  make  a  fool  of  myself,"  he  said. 
"Is  that  it?" 

She  coloured  very  vividly,  but  she  did  not  avoid  his  look. 
"I  don't  think  there  is  much  danger  of  that,  is  there?"  she 
said. 

He  stood  still  suddenly  and  faced  her.  His  eyes  burned 
with  an  amazing  brightness.  "I  don't  know,"  he  said,  speak- 
ing emphatically  and  very  rapidly.  "It  depends  of  course 
upon  the  point  of  view.  But  I'll  tell  you  this.  I'd  give  all 
I've  got — and  all  I'm  ever  likely  to  get — to  prevent  you  going 
to  Shale  Court  as  a  companion." 

"Oh,  but  aren't  you  unreasonable?"  Juliet  said. 

"No,  I'm  not."  He  made  a  vigorous  gesture  of  repudia- 
tion. "Presumptuous  perhaps — but  not  unreasonable.  I 
know  too  much  of  what  goes  on  there,  Miss  Moore.  I  beseech 
you — think  again !  Don't  go." 

She  looked  at  him  in  perplexity.  "But  it  wouldn't  be  fair 
to  draw  back  now,"  she  objected.  "Besides — " 

"Besides,"  he  broke  in  almost  fiercely,  "you've  got  your 
living  to  make  like  the  rest  of  us.  Yes,  I  know — I  know! 
You  regard  this  as  a  Heaven-sent  opportunity.  It  isn't.  It's 
quite  the  reverse.  If  you  were  unhappy  in  London,  you'll  be 
a  thousand  times  more  so  there.  And — and  I  shan't  be  able 
to  help  you — shan't  get  anywhere  near  you  there." 

"It's  very  kind  of  you,"  began  Juliet. 

He  cut  her  short  again.  "No,  it  isn't  kind.  You're  the  only 


The  Intruder  91 

woman  of  your  station  I  have  ever  met  who  has  deigned 
to  treat  me  as  an  equal.  It — it's  a  bit  rash  on  your  part,  you 
know."  He  smiled  at  her  abruptly,  and  something  sent  a 
queer  sensation  through  her — a  curious  feeling  of  famili- 
arity that  held  and  yet  eluded  her.  "And — as  you  see — I'm 
taking  full  advantage  of  it.  I  hope  you  won't  think  me  an 
awful  cad  after  this.  I  can't  help  it  if  you  do.  Miss  Moore, 
forgive  my  asking, — are  you  really  obliged  to  work  for  your 
living  ?  Can't  you — can't  you  wait  a  little  ?" 

Juliet  was  looking  at  him  with  wonder  in  her  soft  eyes. 
His  sudden  vehemence  was  rather  bewildering. 

"I  don't  quite  know,"  she  said  vaguely.  "But  I  rather 
want  to  do  something,  you  know." 

"Oh,  I  know — I  know,"  he  said.  "But  you're  not  obliged 
to  do  this.  Something  else  is  bound  to  turn  up.  Or  if  it 
doesn't — if  it  doesn't — "  He  ground  his  heel  deep  into  the 
yielding  sand,  and  ended  in  a  husky  undertone.  "My  God ! 
What  wouldn't  I  give  for  the  privilege  of  working  for 
you?" 

The  words  were  uttered  and  beyond  recall.  He  looked 
her  straight  in  the  face  as  he  spoke  them,  but  an  instant  later 
he  turned  and  stared  out  over  the  wide,  calm  sea  in  a  still- 
ness that  was  somehow  more  forcible  even  than  his  low, 
half -strangled  speech  had  been. 

Juliet  stood  silent  also,  almost  as  if  she  were  waiting  for 
him  to  recover  his  balance.  Her  eyes  also  were  gazing 
straight  before  her  to  that  far  mysterious  sky-line.  They 
were  very  grave  and  rather  sad. 

He  broke  the  silence  after  many  seconds.  "You  will  never 
speak  to  me  again  after  this." 

"I  hope  I  shall,"  she  said  gently. 

He  wheeled  and  faced  her.    "You're  not  angry  then  ?" 

She  shook  her  head.    "No." 


92  The  Obstacle  Race 

His  eyes  flashed  over  her  with  amazing  swiftness.  "I  al- 
most wish  you  were,"  he  said. 

"But  why?"  she  said. 

"Because  I  should  know  then  it  mattered  a  little.  Now  I 
know  it  doesn't.  I  am  just  one  of  the  many.  Isn't  that  it? 
There  are  so  many  of  us  that  one  more  or  less  doesn't  count 
either  way."  He  laughed  ruefully.  "Well,  I  won't  repeat 
the  offence.  Even  your  patience  must  have  its  limits.  Shall 
we  go  back?" 

It  was  then  that  Juliet  turned,  moved  by  an  impulse  so 
strangely  urgent  that  she  could  not  pause  to  analyse  it.  She 
held  out  her  hand  to  him,  quickly,  shyly,  and  as  he  gripped 
and  held  it,  she  spoke,  her  voice  tremulous,  breathless,  barely 
coherent. 

"I  am  not — offended.  I  am — very — very — deeply — hon- 
oured. Only  you — you— don't  understand." 

He  kept  her  hand  closely  in  his  own.  His  grasp  vibrated 
with  electric  force,  but  he  had  himself  in  check.  "You  are 
more  generous  than  I  deserve,"  he  said,  his  voice  sunk  to 
a  whisper.  "Perhaps — some  day — understanding  will  come. 
May  I  hope  for  that?" 

She  did  not  answer  him,  but  for  one  intimate  second  her 
eyes  looked  straight  into  his.  Then  with  a  little,  sobbing 
breath  she  slipped  her  hand  free. 

"We — are  forgetting  Robin,"  she  said,  with  an  effort. 

He  turned  at  once.  "By  George,  yes !  I'm  afraid  I  had 
forgotten  him,"  he  said. 

They  walked  back  along  the  shore  side  by  side. 


PART  II 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  WAND  OF  OFFICE 

ROBIN  was  in  disgrace.  He  crouched  in  a  sulky  heap  in 
a  far  corner  of  the  schoolroom,  and  glowered  across  the 
empty  desks  and  benches  at  his  elder  brother  who  sat  in  the 
place  of  authority  at  his  writing-table  with  a  litter  of  untidy 
exercise-books  in  front  of  him.  There  was  a  long,  thin 
cane  also  at  his  elbow  that  had  the  look  of  a  somewhat 
sinister  wand  of  office.  He  was  correcting  book  after  book 
with  a  species  of  forced  patience,  that  was  not  without  an 
element  of  exasperation. 

The  evening  sunlight  slanted  through  the  leaded  windows. 
They  were  open  to  their  widest  extent,  but  the  place  was 
oppressively  close.  There  was  a  brooding  sense  of  storm  in 
the  atmosphere.  Suddenly,  as  if  in  some  invisible  fashion 
a  set  limit  had  been  reached  and  passed,  Richard  Green 
lifted  his  head  from  his  work.  His  keen  eyes  sent  a  flash- 
ing glance  down  the  long,  bare  room. 

"Robin!"  he  said. 

Robin  gave  a  violent  start,  and  then  a  shuffling,  reluctant 
movement  as  if  prodded  into  action  against  his  will. 

"Get  up  and  come  here !"  his  brother  said. 

Robin,  in  the  act  of  blundering  to  his  feet,  checked 
abruptly,  as  if  arrested  by  something  in  the  peremptory 
tone.  "What  for  ?"  he  asked,  in  a  surly  note. 

93 


94  The  Obstacle  Race 

"Get  up,"  Green  repeated,  with  grim  insistence,  "and 
come  here!" 

Robin  grabbed  at  the  end  of  the  row  of  desks  nearest  to 
him  and  dragged  himself  slowly  up.  But  there  he  hung  ir- 
resolute. His  heavy  brows  were  drawn,  but  the  eyes  be- 
neath had  a  frightened,  hunted  look.  They  glared  at  Green 
with  a  defiance  so  precarious  that  it  was  pathetic. 

Green  waited  inexorably,  magisterially,  at  his  table.  The 
sunlight  had  gone  and  the  room  was  darkening.  Very  slowly 
Robin  moved  forward,  dragging  his  feet  along  the  bare 
boards.  At  the  other  end  of  the  row  of  desks  he  halted. 
His  eyes  travelled  swiftly  between  his  brother's  stern  coun- 
tenance and  the  wand  of  office  that  lay  before  him  on  the 
writing-table.  He  shivered. 

"Come  here!"  Green  said  again. 

He  crept  a  little  nearer  like  a  guilty  dog.  His  humped 
shoulders  looked  higher  than  usual.  His  eyes  shone  red. 

Across  the  writing  table  Green  faced  him.  He  spoke, 
very  distinctly. 

"Why  did  you  throw  that  stone  at  Mrs.  Fielding's 
car?" 

Robin  was  trembling  from  head  to  foot.  He  drew  a 
quivering  breath  between  his  teeth,  and  stood  silent. 

"Tell  me  why!"  Green  insisted. 

Robin  locked  his  working  hands  together.    Green  waited. 

"It — it — I  didn't  see — Mrs.  Fielding,"  he  blurted  forth  at 
last. 

Green  made  a  slight  movement  that  might  have  indicated 
relief,  but  his  tone  was  as  uncompromising  as  before  as  he 
said,  "That's  not  an  answer  to  my  question.  I  asked  you 
why  you  did  it  ?" 

Robin  shrank  from  the  curt  directness  of  his  speech.  His 
defiance  wilted  visibly.  "I — didn't  mean  to  break  the  win- 


The  Wand  of  Office  95 

dow,  Dicky/'  he  said,  twisting  and  cracking  his  fingers 
in  rising  agitation. 

"What  did  you  mean  to  do?"  said  Green. 

Robin  stood  silent  again. 

"Are  you  going  to  answer  me?"  Green  said,  after  a 
pause. 

Robin  made  a  great  effort.  He  parted  his  straining 
hands  and  rested  them  upon  the  table  behind  which  Green 
sat.  Standing  so,  he  glowered  down  into  his  brother's 
grim  face  with  something  of  menace  in  his  own. 

"I'll  tell  you  one  thing,  Dicky,"  he  said,  with  stupendous 
effort.  "I'm  not  going — to  take  a  caning  for  it." 

Green's  eyebrows  went  up.  He  sat  perfectly  still,  look- 
ing straight  up  into  the  heavy  face  above  him.  For  several 
seconds  a  tense  silence  reigned. 

Then:  "Oh  yes,  you  will,"  he  said  quietly.  "You  will 
take — whatever  I  decide  to  give  you.  Sit  down  there!" 
He  indicated  the  end  of  the  bench  nearest  to  him.  "I'll 
deal  with  you  presently." 

Robin  did  not  stir.  In  the  growing  gloom  of  the  room 
his  eyes  shone  like  the  eyes  of  an  animal,  goaded  and  des- 
perate. But  the  man  before  him  showed  neither  surprise 
nor  anger.  His  clean-cut  lips  were  closed  in  a  straight, 
unyielding  line.  For  a  full  minute  he  looked  at  Robin  and 
Robin  looked  at  him. 

Then  he  spoke.  "I've  only  one  treatment  for  this  sort 
of  thing — as  you  know.  It  isn't  especially  inspiring  for 
either  of  us.  I  shouldn't  qualify  for  it  if  I  were  you." 

Robin  had  begun  to  shake  again.  The  cold,  clear  words 
seemed  to  deprive  him  of  the  brief  strength  he  had  managed 
to  muster.  His  eyes  fell  before  the  steady  regard  that  was 
fixed  upon  him.  With  an  incoherent  murmur  he  turned 
aside,  and  dropped  upon  the  end  of  the  bench  indicated,  his 


96  The  Obstacle  Race 

trembling  hands  gripped  hard  between  his  knees,  his  attitude 
one  of  utter  dejection. 

Green  went  back  to  his  correcting  with  a  frown  between 
his  brows,  and  a  deep  silence  fell. 

Minutes  passed.  The  room  grew  darker,  the  atmosphere 
more  leaden.  Pencil  in  hand,  Green  went  over  book  after 
book  and  put  them  aside.  Suddenly  he  looked  across  at 
the  silent  figure.  The  humped  shoulders  were  heaving. 
Slow  tears  were  falling  upon  the  clasped  hands.  There 
was  no  sound  of  any  sort.  Green  sat  and  watched,  a  kind  of 
stern  pity  replacing  the  unyielding  mastery  of  his  look.  He 
moved  at  length,  was  on  the  verge  of  speech,  when  something 
checked  him.  Footsteps  fell  beyond  the  open  door,  and  in  a 
moment  a  man's  figure  appeared  entering  through  the  gloom. 

"Hullo,  Dick !"  a  voice  said.  "You  here  ?  There's  going 
to  be  the  devil  of  a  storm.  Where's  th?^.  scoundrel  Robin?" 

Robin  stirred  with  a  deep  sound  in  his  throat  like  the 
growl  of  an  angry  animal. 

Richard  Green  rose  with  a  sharp  movement.  "Jack !  I 
want  a  word  with  you.  Come  outside !" 

He  passed  Robin  and  went  to  the  new-comer,  gripping 
him  quickly  by  the  shoulder  and  turning  him  back  by  the 
way  he  had  come. 

Jack  submitted  to  the  imperative  touch.  He  was  taller 
and  broader  than  his  elder  brother,  but  he  lacked  that  subtle 
something — the  distinction  of  bearing — which  in  Richard 
was  very  apparent. 

"Well,  Dick!  What  do  you  want?"  he  said.  "I'm  pretty 
mad,  I  can  tell  you.  I  hope  you're  going  to  thrash  him 
well.  Because  if  you  don't,  I  shall." 

Briefly  and  decidedly  Dick  made  answer.  "No,  you  won't. 
You'll  not  touch  him.  I  shall  do — whatever  is  necessary." 

"Shall  you?"  said  Jack.  "Then  why  don't  you  shut  him 
up  in  a  wild-beast  house?  It's  the  only  place  he's  fit  for." 


The  Wand  of  Office  97 

"Shut  up,  please!"  Richard's  tone  was  an  odd  mixture 
of  tolerance  and  exasperation.  I'll  manage  this  affair  my 
own  way.  But  I've  got  to  know  the  truth  of  it  first.  What 
made  him  throw  that  stone?  Have  you  been  baiting  him 


again 


"I?"  Jack  squared  his  shoulders;  a  sneer  crossed  his 
good-looking  face.  "Oh,  say  I  did  it!"  he  drawled. 

"Don't  be  an  ass,  Jack !  Can't  you  see  I  want  your  help  ?" 
Richard  spoke  with  insistence ;  his  hand  gripped  his  brother's 
arm. 

Jack's  sneer  turned  to  a  self-satisfied  smile.  "I'll  help  you 
hammer  him  if  you  like.  There's  nothing  would  please  me 
better.  Oh,  all  right,  man!  Don't  be  impatient!  That's 
my  funny  bone  when  you've  done  with  it.  I  don't  mind 
telling  you  all  about  it  if  you  want  to  know.  He  chucked 
that  stone  at  me  out  of  sheer  damned  vindictiveness.  He 
meant  to  break  my  head,  but  he  broke  the  window  instead, 
and  frightened  Madam  Fielding  into  fits.  In  her  own  park 
too !  It's  a  bit  thick,  you  know,  that.  I  don't  wonder  that 
she  came  straight  along  to  you  to  demand  his  blood.  You'll 
have  the  old  man  down  next ;  also  the  beautiful  Miss  Moore. 
It^s  getting  beyond  a  joke,  you  know,  Dick.  You'll  have 
to  shut  the  beast  up.  You  can't  let  him  run  amuck  like  this." 

"Shut  up !"  Dick  said  again.  In  the  unnatural  light  his 
face  looked  drawn  and  almost  haggard.  "I  want  to  know 
why  he  did  it.  Can't  you  tell  me  ?" 

"Oh  yes,  I  can  tell  you  that.  He's  taken  to  haunting 
the  place — the  Court,  mind  you — to  lie  in  wait  for  the  fair 
Juliet.  She's  been  too  kind  to  him,  unluckily  for  her,  and 
now  he  dogs  her  footsteps  whenever  he  gets  a  chance.  I 
caught  him  this  afternoon,  right  up  by  the  house,  and  I  or- 
dered him  off.  You  know  the  squire  and  madam,  both 
loathe  the  very  sight  of  him,  and  small  wonder.  I  do  my- 
self. So  I  told  him  what  he  was  and  where  to  go  to,  and 


98  The  Obstacle  Race 

I  presume  he  thought  he'd  send  me  there  first.  There  you 
have  it  all — cause  and  effect." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Dick.  He  paused  a  moment  looking 
speculatively  at  Jack's  complacent  face.  "It  was  a  pity  you 
were  so  damned  offensive,  but  I  suppose  it's  the  way  you're 
made.  You  were  the  sole  cause  of  the  whole  thing,  and  if 
there's  any  decency  in  you,  you'll  go  and  tell  the  squire  so." 

He  spoke  quickly,  but  with  characteristic  decision  and 
wholly  without  excitement.  Jack  jumped,  and  threw  back 
his  head  as  if  he  had  received  a  blow  across  the  mouth. 
Swift  temper  sprang  to  his  eyes. 

"What  the  devil  do  you  mean  ?"  he  demanded. 

"Exactly  what  I  have  said,"  returned  Dick  briefly.  "And 
perhaps  a  little  more." 

"Confound  you!"  blustered  Jack.  "And  you  expect  me 
to  go  to  the  squire  and  tell  him  it  was  my  fault,  do  you?" 

"No.  I  don't  expect  it  in  the  least,"  Dick  almost  laughed. 
"In  fact,  nothing  would  surprise  me  more.  Thank  you  for 
telling  me  the  truth.  Do  you  mind  clearing  out  now?  I 
don't  want  you  in  here." 

His  curt,  cold  tones  fell  like  ice  on  flame.  Jack  swore  a 
muffled  oath  and  turned  away.  There  was  no  one  in  the 
world  who  possessed  the  power  to  humble  him  as  did  Dick, 
who  with  a  few  scorching  words  could  make  him  writhe  in 
impotent  fury.  For  there  was  no  gainsaying  Dick.  He  was 
always  unassailable  in  his  justice,  since  in  a  fashion  inex- 
plicable but  tacitly  acknowledged  by  both  he  occupied  a 
higher  plane  altogether.  Ignore  it  as  he  might,  deep  in  his 
inner  soul  Jack  knew  this  man  to  be  his  master.  He  might, 
and  sometimes  did,  resist  his  control,  deny  his  authority; 
yet  the  power  remained,  and  Dick  knew  how  to  exercise  it  if 
the  need  arose.  They  were  seldom  at  open  variance,  but 
practically  never  in  sympathy. 


The  Wand  of  Office  99 

The  fate  of  poor  Robin  had  been  a  matter  of  disagree- 
ment between  them  ever  since  Jack  had  come  to  man's 
estate,  but  the  issue  did  not  rest  with  Jack.  No  power  on 
earth  could  move  Dick  in  that  direction.  Robin  was  his 
own  peculiar  property,  and  in  this  respect  he  permitted  in- 
terference from  none. 

He  left  Jack  now,  and  turned  back  into  the  schoolroom 
with  deep  lines  between  his  brows,  but  implacable  determina- 
tion in  his  every  movement,  a  determination  that  was  di- 
rected against  the  poor  cowering  form  that  crouched  still 
in  the  same  position  waiting  for  him. 

Robin  looked  up  at  his  coming,  drawing  himself  together 
with  a  nervous  contraction  of  the  muscles  like  the  mute 
shrinking  of  an  abject  dog. 

Dick  stopped  in  front  of  him.  "So  you're  not  going  to 
take  a  caning!"  he  said. 

There  was  no  longer  any  rebellion  in  Robin's  attitude. 
He  dropped  his  eyes  swiftly  from  his  brother's  face,  saying 
no  word.  In  the  silence  that  followed,  his  hands  began  to 
work,  straining  ceaselessly  against  each  other. 

Dick  waited  for  a  few  seconds.  "Going  on  strike,  are 
you  ?"  he  asked  then,  as  Robin  did  not  speak. 

Robin  shook  his  head  dumbly. 

"What  does  that  mean?"    Dick  said. 

Robin  was  silent.  He  was  nearly  dislocating  his  finger- 
joints  in  his  agitation. 

Richard  bent  suddenly  and  laid  a  quieting  hand  upon  him. 
"Robin,  do  you  know  you've  got  me  into  bad  trouble?" 

Robin  gave  a  violent  jerk,  and  in  a  moment  stumbled  to 
his  feet.  He  did  not  look  at  his  brother,  but  turned  aside 
in  his  blundering  pathetic  fashion,  and  went  to  the  littered 
writing-desk. 

Dick's  wand  of  office  still  lay  among  the  scattered  exercise- 


ioo  The  Obstacle  Race 

books.  He  pulled  it  out  with  a  clumsy  eagerness,  tossing 
papers  and  books  on  the  floor  in  his  haste.  He  turned  and 
went  back  to  Dick,  thrusting  the  cane  towards  him. 

"There,  Dicky!"  he  said,  and  stood  breathing  heavily 
and  trembling. 

Dick  reached  out  and  took  the  cane.  The  lines  of  his 
face  were  oddly  softened.  He  stood  for  a  moment  looking 
at  the  boy,  then  very  sharply  he  moved,  bent,  and  snapped 
the  thing  across  his  knee. 

"Oh,  dash  it,  Robin!"  he  said.  "You're  getting  too 
much  for  me." 

He  tossed  the  fragments  from  him,  and  went  to  pick  up 
the  books  that  Robin  had  scattered  on  the  floor. 

Robin  came  and  grovelled  by  his  side,  helping  him.  "You 
aren't  angry,  are  you,  Dicky?"  he  murmured  anxiously. 

"I  ought  to  be,"  Dick  said,  as  he  sat  down  and  began  to 
straighten  out  the  muddle  in  front  of  him. 

Robin  knelt  up  by  his  side.  "Please  don't  be,  Dicky!" 
he  said  very  earnestly.  "I  won't  ever  do  it  again.  I  swear 
I  won't." 

Dick  smiled  somewhat  wryly.  "No.  You'll  probably 
think  of  some  other  devilry  even  worse."  He  put  his  arm 
round  the  humped  shoulders  with  the  words.  "You'll  for- 
get— you  always  do — that  it's  I  who  have  to  pay." 

Robin  pressed  against  him,  still  dog-like  in  his  contrition. 
"Will  it  cost  much?"  he  asked. 

"Oh  that !  The  window,  you  mean  ?  Well,  not  so  much 
as  if  you  had  broken  Jack's  head — as  you  intended." 

There  was  some  hint  of  returning  grimness  in  Dick's 
voice.  Robin  made  an  ingratiating  movement,  leaning  his 
rough  head  against  his  brother's  arm. 

Dick  went  on,  ignoring  the  unspoken  appeal.  "You've 
got  to  stop  it  Robin.  If  you  don't,  there'll  be  trouble — 


The  Wand  of  Office  101 

worse  trouble  than  you've  had  yet.  You  don't  want  to 
leave  me,  I  suppose?" 

"Leave  you,  Dicky?"  Robin  stared  round  in  horror. 
"Leave  you?"  he  repeated  incredulously.  "Go  to  prison, 
do  you  mean?" 

Dick  nodded.    "Something  like  it." 

"Dick!"  Robin  stared  at  him  aghast.  "But — you — you'd 
never  let  them — take  me?" 

"If  you  were  to  damage  Jack — or  anyone  else — badly,  I 
shouldn't  be  able  to  prevent  it."  Dick  said  rather  wearily. 
"If  it  came  to  that —  I  shouldn't  even  try." 

"Dick !"  Robin  gasped  again,  then  passionately ;  "But  I — 
I — I  couldn't  live — away  from  you !  I'd — I'd  kill  myself !" 

"No,  you  wouldn't.  You  wouldn't  get  the  chance."  Dick 
was  staring  straight  before  him  down  the  room,  as  if  he 
watched  some  evil  vision  against  the  darkness.  "People 
aren't  allowed  to  kill  themselves  in  prison.  If  they  try  to  do 
anything  of  that  sort,  they're  tied  down  till  they  come  to 
their  senses.  If  they  behave  like  brutes,  they're  treated  as 
such,  till  at  last  they  turn  into  that  and  nothing  else.  And 
then — God  help  them!" 

A  sudden  hard  shudder  caught  him.  He  shook  it  off  im- 
patiently, and  turned  to  the  quivering  figure  still  kneeling 
in  the  circle  of  his  arm. 

He  gripped  it  suddenly  close.  "That's  the  sort  of  hell 
these  fiendish  tempers  of  yours  might  end  in,"  he  said. 
"You've  got  to  save  yourself,  my  son.  I  can't  save  you." 

Robin  clung  to  him  tensely,  desperately.  "You  don't—- 
want me  to  go,  Dicky?"  he  whispered. 

"Good  God!"  Richard  said.    "I'd  rather  see  you  dead!" 

In  the  silence  that  followed,  Robin  turned  with  a  curious 
groping  movement,  took  the  hand  that  pressed  his  shoulder, 
and  pulled  it  over  his  eyes. 


CHAPTER  II 

MIDSUMMER  MADNESS 

AN  ominous  darkness  brooded  over  all  things  as  Green 
walked  up  the  long  avenue  of  Shale  Court  half-an-hour 
later.  The  storm  had  been  long  in  gathering,  and  he  judged 
that  he  would  yet  have  time  to  reach  his  destination  before 
it  broke.  But  it  was  nearer  than  he  thought,  and  the  first 
dull  roar  of  its  coming  reached  him  soon  after  he  had 
passed  the  gates.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders  at  the  sound 
and  hurried  on,  for  he  was  in  no  mood  to  turn  back.  The 
business  before  him  was  one  that  could  not  be  shirked,  and 
the  lines  on  his  dark  face  showed  unyielding  determination 
as  he  went. 

He  was  half-way  up  the  drive  when  the  first  flash  of 
lightning  glimmered  eerily  across  the  heavy  gloom.  It  was 
followed  so  swiftly  by  a  burst  of  thunder  that  he  realized 
that  he  had  no  time  to  spare  if  he  hoped  to  escape  the 
threatening  deluge.  He  broke  into  a  run,  covering  the 
ground  with  the  ease  of  the  practised  athlete,  elbows  at 
sides  and  head  up,  going  at  an  even  pace  which  he  knew  he 
could  maintain  to  the  finish  without  distress. 

Buc  he  was  not  destined  to  run  to  a  finish.  As  he  rounded 
a  bend  that  gave  him  a  view  of  the  house  in  the  distance, 
he  suddenly  heard  a  voice  call  to  him  from  the  deep  shadow 
of  the  trees,  and  checking  sharply  he  discerned  a  dim  figure 

102 


Midsummer  Madness  103 

coming  towards  him  across  the  grassy  ride  that  bordered 
the  road. 

He  diverted  his  course  without  a  moment's  thought,  and 
went  to  meet  it. 

"Ah,  how  kind  of  you!"  said  Juliet.  "And  there's  going 
to  be  such  a  downpour  in  a  minute." 

"What  is  the  matter  ?"  he  said,  her  hand  in  his. 

She  was  smiling  a  difficult  smile.  "Nothing  very  much. 
Not  enough  to  warrant  my  extreme  selfishness  in  stopping 
you.  I  have  given  my  foot  a  stupid  twist,  that's  all,  and  it 
doesn't  like  walking." 

"Take  my  arm !"  said  Green. 

She  took  it,  her  white  face  still  bravely  smiling.  "Thank 
you,  Mr.  Green." 

"Lean  hard !"  he  said. 

She  obeyed  him,  and  he  led  her,  limping,  to  the  road, 
Columbus,  the  ever-faithful,  trudging  behind. 

"It  really  is  a  shame,"  she  said.  "We  shall  both  be 
drenched  now." 

He  glanced  at  the  threatening  sky.  "It  may  hold  off 
for  a  bit  yet.  What  were  you  doing  ?" 

"I  was  coming  to  see  you,"  she  said. 

"To  see  me!"  His  look  came  swiftly  to  her.  "What 
about  ?" 

"About  Robin,"  she  answered  simply.  "I  wasn't  in  the 
car  when  it  happened,  but  I  heard  all  about  it  when  Mrs. 
Fielding  came  in.  Mr.  Green,  I  hope  you  haven't  been  very 
hard  on  him." 

Green  was  silent  for  a  moment.  "And  you  started 
straight  off  to  come  to  the  rescue?"  he  said  then. 

"Oh,  I  felt  sure  that  he  acted  on  impulse,  not  realizing. 
You  can't  judge  him  by  ordinary  standards.  It  isn't  fair," 
pleaded  Juliet.  "There  was  probably  some  extenuating  cir- 


104  The  Obstacle  Race 

cumstance  in  the  background — something  we  don't  know 
about.  I  hope  you  haven't  been  very  severe.  You  haven't, 
have  you  ?" 

Green  began  to  smile.  "You  make  me  out  an  awful  ogre," 
he  said.  "Is  it  my  trade  that  does  it  ?  No,  I  haven't  pun- 
ished him  at  all.  As  you  say,  we  must  be  fair,  and  I  found 
he  wasn't  the  person  most  to  blame.  Can  you  guess  who 
was?" 

"No,"  said  Juliet. 

"I  thought  not.  Well,  I  have  traced  it  to  its  source,  and 
it  lies — at  your  door." 

"At  mine!"  ejaculated  Juliet. 

"At  yours,  yes.  You've  been  too  kind  to  him.  It's  just 
your  way,  isn't  it?  You  spoil  everybody."  Again  for  an 
instant  his  look  flashed  over  her.  "With  the  result  that 
Robin,  not  hampered  by  convention  as  are  the  rest  of  us, 
lies  in  wait  on  forbidden  ground  for  a  glimpse  of  his  di- 
vinity. Being  caught  and  roundly  abused  for  it  by  his 
brother  Jack,  he  naturally  took  offence  and  trouble  ensued. 
That  is  the  whole  story." 

"Oh,  dear,"  said  Juliet.  "But  surely  that  was  very  un- 
necessary of  your  brother  Jack.  He  might  have  made  al- 
lowances." 

"My  brother  Jack  often  does  unnecessary  things,"  said 
Green  drily.  "And  he  never  makes  allowances  for  anyone 
but  himself." 

"And  you  have  to  bear  the  consequences!"  Juliet's  voice 
was  quick  with  sympathy.  "But  that's  too  bad!" 

"I'm  used  to  it,"  said  Green,  and  laughed.  "How  are  you 
getting  on?  Enjoying  life  at  the  Court?" 

Juliet  smiled.  "Do  you  know — I  am  rather?  They  have 
been  very  good  to  me." 

"So  far,"  said  Green.    "Are  you  still  on  probation?" 


Midsummer  Madness  105 

"The  week  is  up  to-morrow,"  she  told  him. 

"And  you're  staying  on — of  course?" 

She  looked  at  him.    "Don't  you  want  me  to  stay  on?" 

"You  know  my  sentiments,"  said  Green. 

A  sudden  vivid  flash  rent  the  gloom  over  them,  and 
Juliet  caught  her  breath.  There  followed  a  burst  of  thunder 
that  seemed  to  shake  the  very  foundation  of  the  earth. 

She  tried  to  break  into  a  hobbling  run,  but  he  held  her 
back.  "Better  not.  You'll  only  hurt  yourself.  It  isn't 
raining  yet.  You're  not  nervous?" 

She  laughed  a  little,  breathlessly.  "I  don't  admit  it.  I 
should  never  dare  to  show  the  white  feather  in  your  presence. 
Oh,  look  at  that !"  She  shrank  in  spite  of  herself  as  another 
intolerable  flare  darted  across  the  sky. 

"We're  nearly  in,"  said  Green,  but  his  words  were 
drowned  in  such  a  volume  of  sound  as  made  further  speech 
impossible.  He  awoke  to  the  fact  that  Juliet  was  clinging 
to  his  arm  with  both  hands,  and  in  a  second  his  free  hand 
was  on  the  top  of  them  holding  them  tightly. 

The  thunder  rolled  away,  and  a  deeper  darkness  fell. 
Great  drops  of  rain  began  to  splash  around  them. 

"Quick!"  gasped  Juliet.  "We  can't — possibly — reach  the 
house  now.  There  is  an  arbour — by  the  garden  gate.  Let's 
go  there !" 

He  turned  off  the  road  on  to  a  side-path  that  led  to  a 
shrubbery.  The  rush  and  roar  of  the  coming  rain  was 
sweeping  up  from  the  sea.  Juliet  pressed  forward. 

Again  a  jagged  line  of  light  gleamed  before  them.  Again 
the  thunder  crashed.  They  found  the  little  gate  and  the  ar- 
bour beyond. 

"Thank  goodness!"  gasped  Juliet. 

She  stumbled  at  the  step  of  the  summer-house,  and  he 
thrust  an  arm  forward  to  catch  her.  He  almost  lifted  her 


io6  The  Obstacle  Race 

into  shelter.  The  darkness  within  was  complete.  She  leaned 
upon  him,  trembling. 

"You're  not  hurt?"  he  said. 

"No,  not  hurt,  only — shaken — and — and — stupid,"  she 
answered,  on  the  verge  of  tears. 

His  arm  still  held  her.  It  closed  about  her,  very  surely, 
very  steadily.  He  did  not  utter  a  word. 

The  rain  swept  down  in  a  torrent,  as  if  the  skies  had 
opened.  Great  hail  stones  beat  upon  the  laurels  around 
them  with  tropical  violence.  The  noise  of  the  downpour 
seemed  vaster,  more  overwhelming,  even  than  the  thunder. 

Juliet  was  palpitating  from  head  to  foot.  She  leaned 
upon  the  supporting  arm,  her  eyes  closed  against  the  leaping 
lightning,  her  two  hands  pressed  hard  upon  her  breast. 
Columbus  crouched  close  to  her,  shivering. 

And  ever  the  man's  arm  drew  her  nearer,  nearer,  till  she 
felt  the  strong  beating  of  his  heart.  The  storm  raged  on 
about  them,  but  they  two  stood,  as  it  were,  alone,  wrapped 
at  its  very  centre  in  a  great  silence.  For  minutes  they  neither 
moved  nor  spoke. 

Slowly  the  turmoil  abated.  The  downpour  lessened. 
The  storm  passed.  And  Juliet  stirred. 

"How — disgraceful  of  me!"  she  murmured.  "I'm  not 
generally  so  foolish  as  this.  But — it  was  so  very  vio- 
lent." 

"I  know,"  he  said.  His  hold  slackened.  He  let  her 
go.  And  then  suddenly  he  stayed  her.  He  took  her  hand, 
and  bending  pressed  it  closely,  burningly,  to  his  lips. 

She  stood  motionless,  suffering  him.  But  in  a  moment, 
as  he  still  held  her,  very  gently  she  spoke.  "Mr.  Green, 
please — don't  be  so  terribly  in  earnest!  It's  too  soon.  I 
warned  you  before.  You  haven't  known  me — long  enough." 

He  stood  up  and  faced  her,  her  hand  still  in  his.    A  light 


Midsummer  Madness  107 

was  growing  behind  the  storm-clouds,  revealing  his  dark 
clean-cut  features,  and  the  look  half  humorous,  half-tense, 
that  rested  upon  them. 

"Yes,  I  know  you  warned  me,"  he  said  rather  jerkily.  "I 
quite  realize  that  it's  my  funeral — not  yours.  I  shan't  ask 
you  to  be  chief  mourner  either.  I've  always  considered 
that  when  a  man  makes  a  fool  of  himself  over  a  woman  it's 
up  to  him  to  bear  the  consequences  without  asking  her  to 
share  them." 

"But  we're  not  talking  of — funerals,"  said  Juliet. 

"Aren't  we?"  His  hand  tightened  for  a  moment  upon 
hers.  "I  thought  we  were.  What  is  it  then  ?" 

She  smiled  at  him  with  a  whimsical  sadness  in  the  weird 
storm-light.  "I  think  there  are  a  good  many  names  for  it," 
she  said.  "I  call  it  midsummer  madness  myself." 

He  made  a  quick  gestureoT protest!  "Do  you?  Oh,  I 
know  a  better  name  than  that.  But  you  don't  want  to  hear 
it.  I  believe  you  are  afraid  of  me.  It  sounds  preposterous. 
But  I  believe  you  are." 

Her  hand  stirred  within  his,  but  not  as  though  seeking 
to  escape.  "No,  I  don't  think  so,"  she  said,  and  in  her  voice 
was  a  sound  as  if  laughter  and  tears  were  striving  together 
for  the  mastery.  "But  I'm  trying — so  dreadfully  hard — to 
be — discreet.  I  don't  want  you  to  let  yourself  go  too  far. 
It's  so  difficult — you  don't  know  how  difficult  it  is — to  get 
back  afterwards." 

"Good  heavens !"  he  said.  "Don't  you  realize  that  I  passed 
the  turning-back  stage  long  ago." 

"Oh,  I  hope  not !"  she  said  quickly.    "I  hope  not !" 

"Then  I  am  afraid  you  are  doomed  to  disappointment," 
he  said,  with  a  touch  of  cynicism.  "But  I  am  sure  you  are 
far  too  sensible — discreet,  I  mean — to  let  that  worry  you. 
And  anyway,"  he  smiled  abruptly,  "I  don't  want  you  to  be 


io8  The  Obstacle  Race 

worried— just  when  you're  having  such  a  jolly  time  at  the 
Court  too." 

"You're  very  sarcastic,"  said  Juliet. 
He  laughed  a  little.     "No.     "That's  not  me.     It's  only 
the  armour  in  which  I  encase  myself.     I  hope  it  doesn't 
offend  you.    I  can  always  take  it  off.    Only— I  am  not  sure 
you'd  like  that  any  better." 

He  won  his  point.     She  smiled,  though  somewhat  dubi- 
ously.   And  at  length  her  hand  gently  freed  itself  from  his. 
"Well,  I  don't  like  hurting  people,"  she  said.     "And  I 
don't  want  to  hurt  you.    You  understand  that,  don't  you?" 
There  was  pleading  in  her  words. 
"Yes,  perfectly,"  he  said. 

She  glanced  at  him,  for  his  tone  was  baffling.  "And  you 
don't  think  me — quite  heartless  ?" 

He  bent  towards  her.  "No,"  he  said,  and  though  he 
smiled  as  in  duty  bound  she  caught  a  deep  throb  in  his  voice 
that  pierced  straight  through  her.  "I  love  you  all  the  bet- 
ter for  it."  Then,  before  she  could  find  words  to  protest: 
"I  say,  I  believe  it's  left  off  raining.  Hadn't  we  better  go 
while  we  can?" 

She  turned  to  look.  A  pale  light  was  shining  from  the 
western  sky.  The  storm  was  over.  The  raindrops  glittered 
in  the  growing  radiance.  The  whole  earth  seemed  trans- 
formed. "Yes,  let  us  go !"  she  said,  and  stepped  down  into 
a  world  of  crystal  clearness. 

He  followed  her,  his  face  uplifted  to  the  scattering 
drops,  moving  with  a  free  and  faun-like  spring  that  seemed 
to  mark  him  as  a  being  closely  allied  to  Nature,  curiously 
vital  yet  also  curiously  self -restrained. 

She  did  not  look  at  him  again,  but  as  they  passed  together 
through  the  wonderland  which  with  every  moment  was 
growing  to  a  more  amazing  brightness,  she  told  herself 


Midsummer  Madness  109 

that  there  was  little  of  midsummer  madness  about  this 
man's  emotions.  Jest  as  he  might,  she  knew  by  instinct  that 
he  was  vitally  in  earnest  and  she  had  a  strange  conviction 
that  it  was  for  the  first  time  in  his  life.  The  certainty  dis- 
quieted her.  Had  she  fled  from  one  danger  to  another — 
she  who  only  asked  for  peace  ? 

But  she  reassured  herself  with  the  thought  that  he  had 
held  her  against  his  heart,  and  he  had  not  sought  to  take  her. 
That  forbearance  of  his  gave  him  a  greatness  in  her  eyes 
to  which  no  other  man  had  ever  attained.  And  gradually  a 
sense  of  security  to  which  she  was  little  accustomed  came 
about  her  heart  and  comforted  her.  She  had  warned  him. 
Surely  he  understood! 


CHAPTER  III 

A  DRAWN  BATTLE 

ALMOST  in  silence  they  passed  up  through  the  dripping 
garden  to  the  house  side  by  side,  Columbus  trotting  demurely 
behind.  Juliet  was  still  limping,  but  she  would  not  accept 
support. 

"I  suppose  you  are  going  to  beard  the  lion  in  his  den," 
she  said  as  they  drew  near. 

"I  suppose  I  am,"  said  Green.  '"If  you  hear  sounds  of 
a  serious  fracas,  perhaps  you  will  come  to  the  rescue." 

"Not  to  yours,"  she  said  lightly.  "You  are  more  than 
capable  of  holding  your  own — anywhere." 

He  flashed  her  his  sudden  look.  "Do  you  really  think  so  ? 
I  assure  you  I  am  considered  very  small  fry,  indeed,  in  this 
household." 

"That's  very  good  for  you,"  said  Juliet. 

They  mounted  to  the  terrace  that  bounded  the  south  front 
of  the  house,  and  entered  by  a  glass  door  that  led  into  a 
conservatory.  Here  for  a  moment  Juliet  paused.  Her  grey 
eyes  under  their  level  brows  met  his  with  a  friendly  smile. 

"I  think  I  must  leave  you  now,  Mr.  Green,"  she  said, 
"and  go  and  find  Mrs.  Fielding.  I  expect  the  squire  is 
in  his  study." 

His  answering  smile  was  as  ready  as  her  own,  but  there 
was  a  secret  triumph  about  it  that  hers  lacked.  "Pray  don't 
trouble  any  further  on  my  account !"  he  said  courteously.  "I 
can  find  my  own  way." 

no 


A  Drawn  Battle  m 

She  threw  him  a  nod,  cool  and  kindly,  over  her  shoulder, 
and  took  him  at  his  word.  He  watched  her  disappear  into 
the  room  beyond,  Columbus  in  close  attendance;  then  for  a 
few  seconds  his  hands  went  up  to  his  face,  and  he  stood 
motionless,  pressing  his  temples  hard,  feeling  the  blood 
surging  at  fever  heat  through  his  veins.  How  marvellous 
she  was — and  withal  how  gracious!  How  had  he  dared? 
Midsummer  madness  indeed!  And  yet  she  had  suffered 
him — had  even  stooped  to  plead  with  him! 

A  great  shaft  of  red  sunlight  burst  suddenly  through  the 
heaped  storm-clouds  in  the  west.  He  turned  and  faced  it, 
dazzled  but  strangely  exultant.  He  felt  as  if  his  whole 
being  had  been  plunged  into  the  glowing  flame.  The  wonder 
of  it  pulsed  through  and  through  him.  As  it  were  involun- 
tarily, a  prayer  sprang  to  his  lips. 

"O  God,"  he  said,  "make  me  worthy!" 

Then  he  turned,  as  if  the  glory  had  become  too  much 
for  him,  and  went  into  the  house. 

He  had  been  well  acquainted  with  the  place  from  boy- 
hood though  since  the  squire's  marriage  he  had  ceased  to 
enter  it  unannounced.  Before  his  appointment  to  the  vil- 
lage school,  he  had  acted  for  a  time  as  the  squire's  secretary ; 
but  it  had  never  been  more  than  a  temporary  arrangement 
and  it  had  come  to  a  speedy  end  when  Mrs.  Fielding  became 
mistress  of  the  Court.  Between  her  and  her  husband's 
protege,  as  she  scornfully  called  him,  there  had  always 
existed  a  very  decided  antipathy.  She  resented  his  presence 
in  the  house  at  any  time,  and  though  the  squire  made  it 
abundantly  clear  that  he  would  permit  no  open  insolence  on 
her  part,  she  did  not  find  it  difficult  to  convey  her  feelings 
on  the  subject  to  the  man  himself.  He  accepted  the  situa- 
tion with  a  shrug  and  a  smile,  and  though  he  did  not  dis- 
continue his  visits  on  her  account,  they  became  less  frequent 


ii2  The  Obstacle  Race 

than  formerly;  and  now  generally  he  came  and  went  again 
without  seeing  her. 

The  room  he  entered  was  empty.  He  passed  through  it 
without  a  pause  and  found  himself  in  the  great  entrance 
hall.  He  crossed  this  to  a  door  on  the  other  side  and, 
knocking  briefly,  opened  it  without  waiting  for  a  reply. 

"Hullo!"  said  the  squire's  voice.  "You  is  it?  How  did 
you  get  here?  Were  you  caught  in  the  storm?" 

"No,  sir,  I  took  shelter."  Green  shut  the  door,  and  came 
forward. 

Mr.  Fielding  was  seated  in  a  leather  arm-chair  with  a 
newspaper.  He  looked  at  his  visitor  over  it  with  anything 
but  a  favourable  eye. 

"What  have  you  come  for  ?"  he  said. 

Green  halted  in  front  of  him.  "I've  come  to  make  a 
very  humble  apology,"  he  said,  "for  my  boy  Robin's  mis- 
demeanour." 

"Have  you?"  growled  Fielding.  He  sat  motionless,  still 
looking  up  at  Green  from  under  heavily  scowling  brows. 
"Do  you  think  I'm  going  to  be  satisfied  with  just  an 
apology  ?" 

"May  I  sit  down,  please?"  said  Green,  pulling  forward  a 
chair. 

"Oh  yes,  sit  down !  Sit  down  and  argue !"  said  the  squire 
irritably.  "You're  always  ready  with  some  plausible  excuse 
for  that  half-witted  young  scoundrel.  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is, 
Dick.  If  you  don't  get  rid  of  him  after  this,  there'll  be  a 
split  between  us.  I'm  not  going  to  countenance  your  infernal 
obstinacy  any  longer.  The  boy  is  unsafe  and  he  must  go." 

Green  sat,  leaning  forward,  courteously  attentive,  his  eyes 
unwavering  fixed  upon  his  patron's  irate  countenance. 

He  did  not  immediately  reply  to  the  mandate,  and  the 
squire's  frown  deepened.  "You  hear  me,  Dick  ?"  he  said. 


A  Drawn  Battle  113 

Green  nodded.     "Yes,  sir." 

"Well  ?"  Fielding's  hand  clenched  upon  the  paper  in  ex- 
asperation. 

Dick's  eyes  very  bright,  wholly  undismayed,  continued 
to  meet  his  with  unvarying  steadiness.  "I'm  very  sorry, 
sir,"  he  said.  "The  answer  is  the  same  as  usual.  I  can't." 

"Won't — you  mean !"  There  was  a  sound  in  the  squire's 
voice  like  the  muffled  roar  of  an  angry  animal. 

Dick's  black  brows  travelled  swiftly  upward  and  came 
down  again.  "He's  my  boy,  sir,"  he  said.  "I'll  be  respon- 
sible for  all  he  does." 

"But — damn  it"  ejaculated  the  squire.  "Making  your- 
self responsible  for  a  mad  dog  doesn't  prevent  his  biting 
people,  does  it?  He's  become  a  public  danger.  I  tell  you. 
You've  no  right  to  let  him  loose  on  the  neighbourhood." 

"No,  no,  sir !"  Dick  broke  in  quickly.  "That's  not  a  fair 
thing  to  say.  The  boy  is  as  harmless  as  any  of  us  if  he 
isn't  baited.  I  knew — I  knew  perfectly  well — that  there  was 
a  reason  for  what  he  did  to-day.  So  there  was.  I'm  not  go- 
ing into  details.  Besides,  he  was  clearly  in  the  wrong.  But 
you  may  take  it  from  me — he  was  provoked." 

"Oh!  Was  he?"  said  the  squire.  "And  who  provoked 
him?  Jack?" 

Dick  hesitated  momentarily,  then:  "Yes,  Jack,"  he  said 
briefly.  "He  had  some  reason,  but  he's  such  a  tactless 
ass.  He  blames  Robin  of  course.  Everyone  always  does." 

"Except  you,"  said  the  squire  drily.  "Oh,  and  Miss 
Moore!  She  makes  excuses  for  him  at  every  turn." 

"She  would,"  said  Dick  simply. 

"I  don't  know  why,"  snapped  Fielding.  He  suddenly 
laid  a  hand  on  the  younger  man's  arm,  gripping  it  mercilessly. 
"Look  here,  Richard !  Do  you  want  me  to  break  you  ?  Be- 
cause that's  what  it's  coining  to.  Do  you  hear?  That's 


The  Obstacle  Race 

what  it's  coming  to.  You're  getting  near  the  end  of  your 
tether." 

Dick's  eyes  flashed  with  swift  comprehension  over  the 
angry  face  before  him,  and  an  answering  flicker  of  anger 
sprang  up  in  them  for  an  instant;  but  he  kept  himself  in 
hand. 

"Get  me  kicked  out,  you  mean?"  he  said  coolly.  "Yes, 
sir,  no  doubt  you  could  if  you  tried  hard  enough.  You're 
all  powerful  here,  aren't  you  ?  What  you  say,  goes." 

"It  does,"  said  Fielding  grimly.  "And  I  don't  care  a 
damn  what  I  do  when  my  monkey's  up.  You  know  that, 
don't  you  ?" 

"Rather !"  said  Dick.  And  suddenly  the  resentment  died 
out  of  his  face,  and  he  began  to  laugh.  "All  right,  sir! 
Break  me  if  you  like!  I'll  come  out  on  top  somehow." 

"Confound  you!  Do  you  think  you  can  defy  me?" 
fumed  Fielding. 

"I'm  sure  of  it,"  said  Dick.  "I  can  defy  the  whole  world 
if  I  choose.  There  is  a  certain  portion  of  a  man,  you  know, 
that  can't  be  beat  if  he  plays  fair,  however  hard  he's  ham- 
mered. It's  the  rule  of  the  game." 

"Confound  you!"  the  squire  said  again,  and  sprang 
fiercely  to  his  feet.  "Don't  talk  to  me!  You  go  too  far. 
You  always  have.  You  behave  as  if — as  if " 

"As  if  I  were  my  own  master,"  said  Dick  quietly.  "Well, 
I  am  that,  sir.  It's  the  one  thing  in  life  I  can  lay  claim  to." 

"And  a  lord  of  creation  into  the  bargain,  eh?"  the  squire 
flung  at  him,  as  he  tramped  to  the  end  of  the  room. 

Dick  rose  punctiliously  and  stood  waiting,  a  man  unim- 
posing  of  height  and  build  yet  possessing  that  innate  dignity 
which  no  adversity  can  impair.  He  said  nothing,  merely 
stood  and  watched  the  squire  with  half -comic  resignation 
till  he  came  tramping  back. 


A  Drawn  Battle  115 

Fielding's  face  as  he  turned  was  heavy  with  displeasure, 
but  as  his  look  fell  upon  the  offender  a  sudden  softening 
began  to  struggle  with  the  deep  lines  about  his  mouth.  It 
was  like  a  gleam  of  sunshine  on  a  dark  day. 

He  went  to  Dick,  and  took  him  by  the  shoulder.  "Con- 
found you!"  he  said  for  the  third  time.  "You're  just  like 
your  mother.  Pig-headed  as  a  mule,  but " 

"Are  mules  pig-headed?"  said  Dick  flippantly. 

The  squire  shook  him.  "Be  quiet,  you  prig!  I  won't 
be  dictated  to  by  you.  Look  here,  Dick!"  His  voice 
changed  abruptly.  "I'm  not  ordering.  I'm  asking.  That 
boy  is  a  mill-stone  round  your  neck.  Let  him  go !  He'll 
be  happy  enough.  I'll  see  to  that.  Give  him  up  like  a  dear 
chap!  Then  you'll  be  free — free  to  chuck  this  absurd, 
farcical  existence  you're  leading  now — free  to  make  your 
own  way  in  the  world — free  to  marry  and  be  happy."  Dick 
made  a  slight  movement  under  the  hand  that  held  him, 
but  he  did  not  attempt  to  speak.  The  squire  went  on. 
"You  can't  hope  for  any  of  those  things  under  existing 
conditions.  It  wouldn't  be  fair  to  ask  any  woman  to  share 
your  present  life.  It  would  be  almost  an  insult  with  this 
infernal  incubus  hanging  on  you.  Can't  you  see  my  point? 
Can't  you  sacrifice  your  damned  obstinacy?  You'd  never 
regret  it.  You're  ruining  yourself,  Dick.  Chance  after 
chance  has  gone  by,  and  you've  let  'em  go.  But  you  can't 
afford  to  go  on.  You're  in  your  prime  now,  but  let  me 
tell  you  a  man's  prime  doesn't  last.  A  time  will  come  when 
you'll  realize  it's  too  late  to  make  a  start,  and  you'll  look 
back  and  curse  the  folly  that  induced  you  to  saddle  yourself 
with  a  burden  too  heavy  for  you  to  bear." 

He  paused.  Dick  was  looking  straight  before  him  with 
a  set,  grim  face  that  gave  no  indication  of  what  was  pass- 
ing in  his  mind. 


ii6  The  Obstacle  Race 

Again,  more  gently,  the  squire  shook  the  shoulder  under 
his  hand.  "I'm  out  to  make  you  happy,  Dick.  Can't  you 
see  it?  For  your  mother's  sake — as  well  as  your  own. 
And  there's  a  chance  coming  your  way  now — or  I'm  much 
mistaken — which  it  would  be  madness  to  miss.  This  Miss 
Moore — she's  dropped  from  the  skies,  but  she's  charming, 
she's  a  lady,  she's  just  the  woman  for  you.  What,  Dick? 
Think  so  yourself,  do  you?  No,  it's  all  right,  I'm  not 
prying.  But  this  is  a  chance  you'll  never  get  again.  And 
you  can't  ask  her,  you  can't  have  the  face  to  ask  her,  as 
long  as  you  keep  that  half-witted  creature  dangling  after 
you.  It  wouldn't  be  right,  man,  even  if  she'd  have  you. 
Look  the  thing  in  the  face,  and  you'll  be  the  first  to  say 
so !  It  would  be  a  hopeless  handicap  to  any  marriage — an 
insurmountable  obstacle  to  happiness,  hers  as  well  as  yours. 
Don't  tell  me  you  can't  see  it!  You  know  it.  You  know 
you've  no  right  to  ask  any  woman  to  share  a  burden  of 
that  kind  with  you.  It  would  be  manifestly  unfair — 
iniquitous.  There!  I've  done.  I've  never  spoken  my 
mind  to  this  extent  before.  I've  hoped — I've  always  hoped — 
the  wretched  boy  would  die.  But  he  hasn't.  That  sort 
never  does.  He'll  live  for  ever.  And  it's  a  damned  shame 
that  you  should  sacrifice  yourself  to  him  any  longer.  For 
heaven's  sake  let  him  go." 

He  ceased  to  speak,  and  there  fell  a  silence  so  tense, 
so  electric,  that  it  seemed  as  if  it  must  mask  something 
terrible.  Dick's  face  was  still  immovable,  but  he  had  the 
look  of  a  man  who  endures  unutterable  things.  He  had 
flinched  once — and  only  once — during  the  squire's  speech, 
and  that  was  at  the  first  mention  of  Juliet.  But  for  the 
rest  he  had  stood  quite  rigid,  as  he  stood  now,  his  lips 
tightly  compressed,  his  eyes  looking  straight  before  him. 

He  came  out  of  his  silence  at  last  with  a  movement  so 


A  Drawn  Battle  117 

sudden  that  it  was  as  if  he  flung  aside  some  weight  that 
threatened  to  overwhelm  him.  The  arrested  vitality 
flashed  back  into  his  face.  He  threw  back  his  head  with 
a  smile,  and  looked  the  squire  in  the  face. 

"You  haven't  left  me  a  leg  to  stand  on,  sir,"  he  said. 
"But  all  the  same — I  stand.  There's  nothing  more  to  be 
said  except — may  I  pay  for  the  window?" 

Fielding's  hand  dropped  from  his  shoulder.  He  flung 
round  fiercely  and  tramped  to  the  window,  swearing  in- 
articulately. 

Dick's  black  brows  went  up  again  to  a  humorous  angle. 
He  pursed  his  lips,  but  he  did  not  whistle. 

"Do  you  realize  that  my  wife  might  have  been  killed?" 
Fielding  growled  at  last. 

"Oh,  quite,"  said  Dick.  "I'm  glad  she  wasn't.  Ought 
I  to  congratulate  her?" 

"Oh,  don't  be  so  damn'  funny!"  Fielding  jingled  the 
money  in  his  pocket  irritably.  "You  won't  laugh  when  I 
turn  you  out." 

"I  wonder,"  said  Dick. 

Fielding  turned  sharply  round  upon  him.  "You  behave 
as  if  you  don't  care  what  I  do,"  he  said,  an  ugly  scowl 
on  his  face.  "Or  perhaps  you  think  I  won't  or  can't — do 
it." 

"No,  sir,"  Dick  spoke  deliberately,  and  though  he  still 
smiled  his  eyes  held  the  squire's  with  unmistakable  deter- 
mination. "I'm  sure  you  can  do  it.  I'm  equally  sure  you 
won't.  And  I'm  surest  of  all  that  I  shouldn't  care  a  damn 
if  you  did." 

"You  wouldn't  care!"  The  squire  looked  furious  for 
a  moment,  then  he  sneered.  "Oh,  wouldn't  you,  my  friend  ? 
We  shall  see.  You'd  better  go  now — before  I  have  you 
kicked  out." 


ii8  The  Obstacle  Race 

Dick's  shoulders  jerked  with  a  swift  tightening  of  the 
muscles.  His  eyes  gleamed  with  a  fierce  light  though  his 
smile  remained.  "I'll  lay  you  even  odds,"  he  said,  "that 
if  you  want  that  done,  you'll  have  to  do  it  yourself." 

"I'm  equal  to  it!"  flashed  the  squire.  "You'd  better  not 
try  me  too  far !" 

"I  won't  try  you  at  all,  sir,"  Dick  suddenly  relaxed 
again.  He  went  to  him  with  a  pacific  hand  held  out. 
"Good  bye!  I'm  going — now." 

Fielding  looked  at  him,  looked  at  the  extended  hand, 
paused  for  a  long  moment,  finally  took  it. 

"Don't  want  to  quarrel  with  me,  eh?"  he  said. 

"Not  without  cause,"  said  Dick. 

Fielding  gripped  the  firm,  lithe  hand,  looking  at  him 
hard  and  straight.  "You're  very  cussed,"  he  said  slowly. 
"I  wish  I'd  had  the  upbringing  of  you." 

Dick  laughed.  "Well,  you've  meddled  in  my  affairs  as 
long  as  I  can  remember,  sir.  I  don't  know  anyone  who  has 
had  as  much  to  do  with  me  as  you  have." 

"And  precious  little  satisfaction  I've  got  out  of  it," 
grumbled  the  squire.  "You've  always  been  a  kicker."  He 
broke  off  as  a  knock  came  at  the  door,  and  turned  away 
with  an  impatient  fling.  "Who  is  it?  Come  in!" 

The  door  opened.  Juliet  stood  on  the  threshold.  The 
evening  light  fell  full  upon  her.  She  was  dressed  in  cloudy 
grey  that  fell  about  her  in  soft  folds.  Her  face  was  flushed, 
but  quite  serene. 

"Mrs.  Fielding  wants  to  know  if  you  have  forgotten 
dinner,"  she  said. 

The  squire's  face  changed  magically.  He  smiled  upon 
Juliet.  "Come  in,  Miss  Moore!  You've  met  this  pestilent 
pedagogue  before,  I  think." 

"Just  once  or  twice,"  said  Juliet,  coming  forward. 


A  Drawn  Battle  119 

"How  is  the  ankle?"  said  Green. 

She  smiled  at  him  without  embarrassment.  "Oh,  better, 
thank  you.  It  was  only  a  wrench." 

"Hurt  yourself?"  questioned  Fielding. 

"No,  no.  It's  really  nothing.  I  slipped  in  the  park  and 
nearly  sprained  my  ankle — just  not  quite,"  said  Juliet. 
"And  Mr.  Green  very  kindly  helped  me  into  shelter  before 
the  storm  broke." 

"Did  he?"  said  the  squire  and  looked  at  Green  search- 
ingly.  "Well,  Mr.  Green,  you'd  better  stay  and  dine  as 
you  are  here." 

"You're  very  kind,"  Dick  said.  "I  don't  know  whether 
I  ought.  I'm  not  dressed." 

"Of  course  you  ought!"  said  Fielding  testily.  "Come 
on  and  wash!  Your  clothes  won't  matter — we're  alone. 
That  is,  if  Miss  Moore  doesn't  object  to  sitting  down  with 
blue  serge." 

"I  have  no  objection  whatever,"  said  Juliet.  She  was 
looking  from  one  to  the  other  with  a  slightly  puzzled  ex- 
pression. 

"What  is  it?"  said  Fielding,  pausing. 

His  look  was  kindly.  Juliet  laughed.  "I  don't  know. 
I  feel  as  I  felt  that  day  you  caught  me  trespassing.  Am 
I  trespassing,  I  wonder?" 

"No!"  saidFielding  and  Green  in  one  breath. 

She  swept  them  a  deep  Court  courtesy. 

"Thank  you,  gentlemen!  With  your  leave  I  will  now 
withdraw." 

The  squire  was  at  the  door.  He  bowed  her  out  with 
ceremony,  watched  her  cross  the  hall,  then  sharply  turned 
his  head.  Green  was  watching  her  also,  but  keen  as  the 
twist  of  a  rapier  in  the  hand  of  a  practised  fencer,  his 
eyes  flashed  to  meet  the  squire's. 


120  The  Obstacle  Race 

Fielding  smiled  grimly.  He  motioned  him  forward, 
gripped  him  by  the  arm,  and  drew  him  out  of  the  room. 
They  mounted  the  shallow  oak  stairs  side  by  side. 

At  the  top  in  a  tense  whisper  Fielding  spoke.  "Don't 
you  be  a  fool,  Richard!  Don't  you  be  a  damn'  fool!" 

Dick's  laugh  had  in  it  a  note  that  was  not  of  mirth. 
"All  right,  sir,  I'll  do  my  best,"  he  said. 

It  was  a  drawn  battle,  and  they  both  knew  it.  By  tacit 
consent  neither  referred  to  the  matter  again. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A   POINT  OF    HONOUR 

"How  like  my  husband!"  said  Mrs.  Fielding  impatiently, 
fidgeting  up  and  down  the  long  drawing  room  with  a  fretful 
frown  on  her  pretty  face.  "Why  didn't  you  put  a  stop  to 
it,  Miss  Moore?  You  might  so  easily  have  said  that  the 
storm  had  upset  me  and  I  wasn't  equal  to  a  visitor  at  the 
dinner-table  to-night."  She  paused  to  look  at  herself  in 
the  gilded  mirror  above  the  mantel-piece.  "I  declare  I  look 
positively  haggard.  I've  a  good  mind  to  go  to  bed.  Only  if 
I  do — "  she  turned  slowly  and  looked  at  Juliet — "if  I 
do,  he  is  sure  to  be  brutal  about  it — unless  you  tell  him  you 
persuaded  me." 

Juliet,  seated  in  a  low  chair,  with  a  book  on  her  lap, 
looked  up  with  a  gleam  of  humour  in  her  eyes.  "But  I  am 
afraid  I  haven't  persuaded  you,"  she  said. 

Mrs.  Fielding  shrugged  her  white  shoulders  impatiently. 
"Oh,  of  course  not.  You  only  persuade  me  to  do  a  thing 
when  you  know  that  it  is  the  one  thing  that  I  would 
rather  die  than  do." 

"Am  T^s  bad  as'that?"  said  Juliet. 

"Pretty  nearly.  You're  coming  to  it.  I  know  you  are 
on  his  side  all  the  time.  He  knows  it  too.  He  wouldn't 
tolerate  you  for  a  moment  if  you  weren't." 

"What  a  horrid  accusation !"  said  Juliet,  with  a  smile. 

"The  truth  generally  is  horrid,"  said  Mrs.  Fielding. 

121 


122  The  Obstacle  Race 

"How  would  you  like  to  feel  that  everyone  is  against  you  ?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  expect  I  should  find  a  way  out  some- 
how. I  shouldn't  quarrel,"  said  Juliet.  "Not  with  such 
odds  as  that!" 

"How — discreet!"  said  Mrs.  Fielding,  with  a  sneer. 

"Discretion  is  my  watchword,"  smiled  Juliet. 

"And  very  wise  too,"  said  Green's  voice  in  the  door- 
way. "How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Fielding?  As  I  can't  dress, 
I've  been  sent  down  to  try  and  make  my  peace  with  you 
for  showing  my  face  here  at  all.  I  hope  you'll  be  lenient  for 
once,  for  really  I've  had  a  thorough  bullying  for  my  sins." 

He  came  forward  with  the  words.  His  bearing  was 
absolutely  easy  though  neither  he  nor  his  hostess  seemed 
to  think  of  shaking  hands. 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  disdainful  curve  of  the  lips  that 
could  scarcely  have  been  described  as  a  smile  of  welcome. 
"I  imagine  it  would  take  a  good  deal  of  that  sort  of  thing 
to  make  much  impression  upon  you,  Mr.  Green,"  she  said. 

Green's  eyes  began  to  shine.  He  glanced  at  Juliet. 
"Really  I  am  much  more  inoffensive  than  you  seem  to 
think,"  he  said.  "I  hope  you  are  not  going  to  repeat  the 
dose.  I  was  hoping  to  secure  your  forgiveness  for  what 
happened  this  afternoon.  Believe  me,  no  one  regrets  it 
more  sincerely  than  I  do." 

Mrs.  Fielding  drew  herself  together  with  a  gesture  of 
distaste.  "Oh,  that!  I  have  no  desire  whatever  to  dis- 
cuss it  with  you.  I  have  long  regarded  your  half-witted 
brother  as  a  disgrace  to  the  neighbourhood,  and  my  opinion 
is  scarcely  likely  to  be  modified  by  what  happened  this 
afternoon." 

"How  unfortunate!"  said  Green. 

Again  he  glanced  at  Juliet.  She  lifted  her  eyes  to  his.  "I 
am  afraid  I  haven't  taken  my  share  of  the  blame,"  she  said. 


A  Point  of  Honour  123 

"But  I  think  you  know  that  I  am  very  sorry  for  Robin." 

"You  are  always  kind,"  he  rejoined  gravely. 

"How  could  you  be  to  blame,  Miss  Moore?"  asked  Mrs. 
Fielding. 

Juliet  turned  towards  her.  "Because  Robin  and  I  are 
friends,"  she  explained  simply.  "He  came  here  to  look  for 
me,  and  Jack  ordered  him  off.  That  was  the  origin  of  the 
trouble.  And  so — "  she  smiled — "Mr.  Green  tells  me  it 
was  my  fault." 

"He  would,"  commented  Mrs.  Fielding. 

She  turned  with  the  words  as  if  Green's  proximity  were 
an  offence  to  her,  and  walked  away  to  the  window  at  the 
further  end  of  the  room. 

In  the  slightly  strained  pause  that  followed  Juliet  bent 
to  fondle  Columbus  who  was  sitting  pressed  against  her 
and  her  book  slid  from  her  lap  to  the  ground.  Green 
stooped  swiftly  and  picked  it  up. 

"What  is  it?     May  I  look?" 

She  held  out  her  hand  for  it.  "It  is  Marionettes, — 
Dene  Strange's  latest.  Mrs.  Fielding  lent  it  to  me." 

He  kept  the  book  in  his  hand.  "I  thought  you  said  you 
wouldn't  read  any  more  of  that  man's  stuff." 

She  knitted  her  brows  a  little.  "Did  I  say  so?  I  don't 
remember." 

He  looked  down  at  her  keenly.  "You  said  you  hated  the 
man  and  his  work." 

She  began  to  smile.  "Well,  I  do — in  certain  moods. 
But  I've  got  to  read  him  all  the  same.  Everyone  does." 

"Surely  you  don't  follow  the  crowd !"  he  said. 

She  laughed — her  sweet,  low  laugh.  "Surely  I  do !  I'm 
one  of  them." 

He  made  a  sharp  gesture.  "That's  just  what  you  are 
not.  I  say,  Miss  Moore,  don't  read  this  book!  It  won't 


124  The  Obstacle  Race 

do  you  any  good,  and  it'll  make  you  very  angry.  You'll 
call  it  cynical,  insincere,  cold-blooded.  It  will  hurt  your 
feelings  horribly." 

"I  don't  think  so,"  said  Juliet.  "You  forget, — I  am  no 
longer — a  marionette.  I  have  come  to  life." 

Again  she  held  out  her  hand  for  the  book.  He  gave  it 
to  her  reluctantly. 

"Don't  read  it !"  he  said. 

She  shook  her  head,  still  smiling.  "No,  Mr.  Green,  I'm 
not  going  to  let  you  censor  my  reading.  I  will  tell  you  what 
I  think  of  it  next  time  we  meet." 

"Don't!"  he  said  again  very  earnestly. 

But  Juliet  would  not  yield.  She  stooped  again  over 
Columbus  and  fondled  his  ear. 

Green  stood  looking  down  at  her,  his  dark  face  some- 
what grim,  his  eyes  extremely  bright. 

"I  believe  he's  cross  with  us,  Christopher,"  murmured 
Juliet.  "Never  mind,  old  thing!  We  shall  get  over  it  if 
he  doesn't.  Being  cross  always  hurts  oneself  the  most. 
We're — never  cross,  are  we,  Christopher?  We  please  our- 
selves and  we  please  each  other — always." 

Columbus  grunted  appreciatively  and  leaned  harder 
against  her.  He  liked  to  be  included  in  the  conversation. 

Green  suddenly  bent  and  pulled  the  other  ear.  "You're  a 
jolly  lucky  chap,  Columbus,"  he  said.  "I'll  change  places 
with  you  any  day  in  the  week." 

Columbus  smiled  at  him  indulgently,  and  edged  his  nose 
onto  his  mistress's  knee.  He  knew  his  position  was  secure. 

"Don't  you  listen  to  him,  Christopher !"  said  Juliet.  "He 
wouldn't  be  in  your  place  two  minutes.  If  I  dared  to 
thwart  him,  in  anything,  he'd  turn  and  rend  me." 

"He  wouldn't,"  said  Green  decidedly.  "Anyone  else — 
perhaps,  but  his  mistress — never." 


A  Point  of  Honour  125 

Columbus  yawned.  The  topic  did  not  interest  him.  But 
Juliet  laughed  again,  and  for  a  moment  her  eyes  glanced 
upwards,  meeting  the  man's  look. 

"Is  that  a  promise?"  she  asked  lightly. 

"My  word  of  honour,"  he  said. 

"How  generous  !"  said  Juliet.    "And  how  rash !" 

Mrs.  Fielding  looked  round  from  the  window  and  spoke 
fretfully.  "The  storm  seems  to  have  made  it  more  oppres- 
sive than  ever,"  she  complained.  "I  believe  it  is  coming  up 
again." 

"I  hope  not,"  said  Green. 

Juliet  got  up  quietly  and  moved  to  join  her — a  tall  woman 
of  gracious  outlines  with  the  poise  of  a  princess. 

"You  know  all  about  everything,"  she  said  to  him,  in 
passing.  "Come  and  read  the  weather  for  us !" 

He  followed  her.  They  stood  together  at  the  open  French 
window,  looking  out  onto  the  stormy  sunset. 

"It  isn't  coming  back,"  said  Green,  after  a  pause. 

Mrs.  Fielding  gave  him  a  brief,  contemptuous  glance. 
Juliet  regarded  him  more  openly,  a  glint  of  mockery  in  her 
eyes. 

"You  are  sure  to  be  right,"  she  said. 

He  made  her  a  bow.  "Many  thanks,  Miss  Moore!  I 
think  I  am  on  this  occasion  at  least.  We  shall  have  a  fine 
day  for  the  Graydown  races  to-morrow." 

"Are  you  keen  on  racing?"  asked  Juliet. 

He  laughed.     "I've  no  time  for  frivolities  of  that  sort." 

"You  could  make  time  if  you  wanted  to,"  observed  Mrs. 
Fielding.  "You  are  free  on  Saturday." 

"Am  I  ?"  said  Green. 

She  challenged  him  in  sudden  exasperation.  "Well,  what 
do  you  do  on  your  off  days?" 

He  considered  for  a  moment.     "I'll  tell  you  what  I'm 


126  The  Obstacle  Race 

doing  to-morrow,  if  you  like,"  he  said.  "In  the  morning  I 
hold  a  swimming  class  for  all  who  care  to  attend.  In  the 
afternoon  I've  got  a  cricket  match.  And  in  the  evening  I'm 
running  an  open-air  concert  at  High  Shale  with  Ashcott." 

"For  those  wretched  miners!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Fielding. 

He  nodded.  "Yes,  and  their  wives  and  their  babies.  They 
are  rather  amusing  shows  sometimes.  We  use  native  talent 
of  course.  I  believe  you  would  be  interested,  Miss  Moore." 

"I  am  sure  I  should,"  said  Juliet.  "May  I  come  to  one 
some  day?" 

He  faced  her  boldly.     "Will  you  help  at  one — some  day  ?" 

"Oh,  really !"  broke  in  Mrs.  Fielding.  "That  is  too  much. 
I  am  sure  my  husband  would  never  agree  to  that." 

"I  don't  know  why  he  shouldn't,"  said  Juliet  gently. 
"But  the  point  is — should  I  be  any  good  ?" 

"You  sing,"  said  Green  with  confidence. 

She  smiled.    "Who  told  you  so?" 

His  brows  worked  humorously.  "It's  one  of  the  things  I 
know  without  being  told.  Would  you  be  afraid  to  venture  your- 
self in  that  rough  crowd  with  only  me  to  take  care  of  you  ?" 

"Not  in  the  least,"  said  Juliet. 

"Thank  you,"  he  said.  "You  would  certainly  have  no  need 
to  be.  You  would  have  an  immense  reception." 

"I  am  quite  sure  my  husband  would  never  allow  it,"  said 
Mrs.  Fielding  with  a  frown.  "These  High  Shale  people 
are  so  hopelessly  disreputable — such  a  drunken,  lawless  lot." 

"But  not  beyond  redemption,"  said  Green  quickly,  "if 
anyone  takes  the  trouble." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "There  are  not  many  people 
who  have  time  to  waste  over  them.  In  any  case,  the  re- 
sponsibility lies  at  Lord  Wilchester's  door — not  ours." 

"And  as  Lord  Wilchester  happens  to  be  a  rotter,  they 
must  go  to  the  wall,"  remarked  Green. 


A  Point  of  Honour  127 

"Well,  it  is  no  business  of  ours,"  maintained  Mrs.  Field- 
ing. "I  always  leave  that  sort  of  thing  to  the  busybodies 
who  enjoy  it." 

"What  a  good  idea!"  said  Green.  "Do  you  know  I  never 
thought  of  that." 

"Tell  me  about  the  cricket  match !"  Juliet  said,  interven- 
ing. "Who  is  playing?" 

He  gave  her  a  glance  of  quizzical  understanding.  "Oh, 
that's  a  village  affair  too — Little  Shale  versus  Fairharbour, 
most  of  them  fisher-lads,  all  of  them  sports.  I  have  the 
honour  to  be  captain  of  the  Little  Shale  team. 

"You  seem  to  be  everything,"  she  said. 

"Jack  of  all  trades !"  sneered  Mrs.  Fielding. 

Green  laughed.    "I  was  just  going  to  say  that." 

"How  original  of  you !"  said  Juliet.  "Well,  I  hope  you'll 
win." 

"He  is  the  sort  of  person  who  always  comes  out  on  top 
whether  he  wins  or  loses,"  said  Fielding,  striding  up  the  long 
room  at  the  moment.  "You've  not  seen  him  play  cricket  yet, 
Miss  Moore.  He's  a  positive  tornado  on  the  cricket-ground. 
To-morrow's  Saturday,  isn't  it?  Where  are  you  playing, 
Dick?" 

His  good  humour  was  evidently  fully  restored.  He 
slapped  a  hand  on  Dick's  shoulder  with  the  words.  Mrs. 
Fielding's  lips  turned  downwards  at  the  action. 

"We  are  playing  the  Fairharbour  crowd,  sir,  on  Lord 
Saltash's  ground,"  said  Green.  "It's  in  Burchester  Park. 
You  know  the  place  don't  you?  It's  just  above  the  town." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know  it.  A  fine  place.  Pity  it  doesn't  belong 
to  somebody  decent,"  said  the  squire. 

Mrs.  Fielding  laughed  unpleasantly.  "Dear  me!  More 
wicked  lords  ?" 

Her  husband  looked  at  her  with  his  quick  frown.     "I 


128  The  Obstacle  Race 

thought  everybody  knew  Saltash  was  a  scoundrel.  It's 
common  talk  that  he's  in  Paris  at  this  moment  entertaining 
that  worthless  jade,  Lady  Joanna  Farringmore." 

Juliet  gave  a  violent  start  at  the  words.  For  a  moment 
her  face  flamed  red,  then  went  dead  white — so  white  that 
she  almost  looked  as  if  she  would  faint.  Then,  in  a  very 
low  voice,  "It  may  be  common  talk,"  she  said,  "but — I  am 
quite  sure — it  isn't  true." 

"Good  heavens!"  exclaimed  the  squire.  "My  dear  Miss 
Moore,  pray  forgive  me !  I  forgot  you  knew  her." 

She  smiled  at  him,  still  with  that  ashen  face.  "Yes,  I 
know  her.  At  least — I  used  to.  And — she  may  have  been 
heartless — I  think  she  was; — but  she  wasn't — that." 

"Not  when  you  knew  her  perhaps,"  said  Mrs.  Fielding's 
scornful  voice.  She  had  no  sympathy  with  people  who  re- 
garded it  as  a  duty  to  stand  up  for  their  unworthy  friends. 
"But  since  you  quarrelled  with  her  yourself  on  account  of 
her  disgraceful  behaviour  you  are  scarcely  in  a  position  to 
defend  her." 

"No — I  know,"  said  Juliet,  and  she  spoke  nervously, 
painfully.  "But — I  must  defend  her  on — a  point  of  honour." 

She  did  not  look  at  Green.  Yet  instantly  and  very  de- 
cidedly he  entered  the  breach.  "Quite  so,"  he  said.  "We 
are  all  entitled  to  fair  play — though  we  don't  always  get  it 
when  our  backs  are  turned.  I  take  off  my  hat  to  you,  Miss 
Moore,  for  your  loyalty  to  your  friends." 

She  gave  him  a  quick  glance  without  speaking. 

From  the  door  the  butler  announced  dinner,  and  they  all 
turned. 

"Miss  Moore,  I  apologize,"  said  the  squire,  and  offered 
her  his  arm. 

She  took  it,  her  hand  not  very  steady.  "Please  forget 
it !"  she  said. 


A  Point  of  Honour  129 

He  smiled  at  her  kindly  as  he  led  her  from  the  room,  and 
began  to  speak  of  other  things. 

Green  sauntered  behind  with  his  hostess.  His  eyes  were 
extremely  bright,  and  he  made  no  attempt  to  make  conver- 
sation as  he  went. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    WAY   TO    HAPPINESS 

IT  was  an  unpleasant  shock  to  Juliet  on  the  following  morn- 
ing when  she  went  to  Mrs.  Fielding's  room  after  breakfast 
to  find  her  lying  in  bed,  pale  and  tear-stained,  refusing 
morosely  to  partake  of  any  nourishment  whatever. 

Juliet  always  breakfasted  alone,  for  the  squire  was  in 
the  habit  of  taking  his  early  ride  first  and  coming  in  late 
for  the  meal.  She  usually  took  a  morning  paper  up  with 
her  with  which  to  regale  the  mistress  of  the  house  before 
she  rose,  but  the  first  glance  showed  her  that  this  attention 
would  be  wholly  unwelcome  to-day.  Even  the  letters  that 
had  accompanied  her  breakfast  tray  were  scattered  un- 
opened by  her  side. 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter  ?"  said  Juliet. 

"I've  had — a  wretched  night,"  said  Mrs.  Fielding,  and 
turned  her  face  into  the  pillow  with  a  sob. 

Her  maid  glanced  at  Juliet  with  raised  brows,  and  indi- 
cated the  untouched  breakfast  with  a  shrug  of  helplessness. 

Juliet  came  to  the  bedside.  "What  is  it?  Aren't  you 
well?"  she  questioned. 

"No,  I'm  wretched — miserable !"  The  words  came  muffled 
with  sobs. 

Juliet  looked  round.  "All  right,  Cox.  You  can  go.  I 
will  ring  when  you  are  wanted." 

Cox  went,  leaving  the  despised  breakfast  behind  her. 

130 


The  Way  to  Happiness  is1 

Juliet  turned  back  to  the  bed,  and  found  Mrs.  Fielding 
weeping  unrestrainedly.  She  bent  over  her,  discarding  all 
ceremony.  "My  dear  girl,  do  stop!"  she  said.  "What  on 
earth  is  the  matter?  You  won't  get  over  it  all  day  if  you  go 
on  like  this." 

"Of  course  I  shan't  get  over  it!"  sobbed  Mrs.  Fielding 
indignantly.  "I  never  do.  He  knows  that  perfectly  well. 
He  knows — that  when  once  I'm  down — it  takes  me  days — 
weeks — to  get  up  again." 

"Oh,  dear!"  said  Juliet.    "It's  a  quarrel,  is  it?" 

Mrs.  Fielding  raised  herself  with  a  furious  movement 
and  thrust  out  a  white  arm  on  which  the  bruises  of  a  fierce 
grip  were  mercilessly  defined.  "That's  how — he — quarrels !" 
she  said  bitterly. 

Juliet  drew  down  the  loose  night-dress  sleeve  with  a 
gentle  but  very  decided  hand.  "Don't  let  anyone  else  see 
it!"  she  said.  "And  don't  tell  me  any  more  unless  you're 
sure — quite  sure — you  want  me  to  know!" 

"Why  shouldn't  you  know?"  said  Mrs.  Fielding  pettishly 
through  her  falling  tears.  "It's  your  fault  in  a  way.  At 
least  it  wouldn't  have  happened  if  you  hadn't  been  here — 
you  and  that  horrid  little  cad  of  a  schoolmaster." 

"Oh,  don't  put  it  like  that!"  said  Juliet.  "It's  such  a 
pity  to  offend  everybody  at  once.  You  really  musn't  cry 
any  more  or  you'll  be  ill.  I'm  sure  it  isn't  worth  that." 

"I  don't  care  if  I  die !"  cried  Mrs.  Fielding,  with  a  fresh 
burst  of  weeping.  "I'm  miserable — miserable!  And  no- 
body cares." 

She  flung  herself  down  upon  the  pillow  in  such  a 
paroxysm  of  hysterical  sobbing  that  Juliet  actually  was 
alarmed.  She  stood  beside  her,  impotent,  unable  to  make 
herself  heard,  and  wondering  what  to  do.  She  had  never 
before  looked  upon  such  an  abandonment  of  distress  as  she 


132  The  Obstacle  Race 

now  beheld,  and  since  Mrs.  Fielding  was  obviously  be- 
yond all  reasoning  or  consolation  she  was  powerless  to  cope 
with  it.  She  could  only  stand  and  wait  for  the  storm  to 
spend  itself. 

It  seemed,  however,  to  increase  rather  than  to  abate, 
and  she  was  beginning  to  contemplate  recalling  Cox  to 
her  assistance  when  to  her  astonishment  the  door  sud- 
denly opened,  and  Fielding  himself  appeared  upon  the 
threshold. 

She  turned  sharply,  her  first  impulse  to  keep  him  out,  for 
he  wore  an  ugly  look.  But  in  a  moment  she  realized  that 
the  direction  of  affairs  was  not  in  her  control.  He  came 
straight  forward  with  a  mastery  that  would  brook  no  inter- 
ference. 

"Leave  her  to  me!"  he  said,  as  he  reached  Juliet. 

But  at  the  first  word  his  wife  uttered  so  wild  a  shriek  of 
alarm  that  Juliet  turned  back  to  her  with  the  swift  instinct 
to  protect.  In  an  instant  Mrs.  Fielding  was  clinging  to  her, 
clinging  desperately,  frantically,  like  a  terrified  child. 

"Oh,  don't  go !  Oh,  don't  leave  me !"  she  gasped.  "Juliet ! 
Juliet!  Stay — oh,  stay!" 

She  could  not  refuse  the  appeal.  It  went  straight  to  her 
heart.  She  put  her  arms  about  the  quivering,  convulsed 
form  and  held  it  close. 

"I  can't  go !"  she  said  hurriedly  to  the  squire. 

"Stay  then !"  he  said  curtly. 

Then  abruptly  he  stooped  over  the  trembling,  hysterical 
woman.  "Vera,"  he  said,  "stop  it  at  once!  Do  you  hear 
me  ?  Stop  it !" 

He  did  not  raise  his  voice,  but  his  words  had  a  pitiless 
distinctness  that  seemed  somehow  more  forcible  than  any 
violence.  Vera  Fielding  shrank  closer  to  Juliet's  breast. 

"Don't  leave  me!"     Don't  leave  me!"  she  moaned,  still 


The  Way  to  Happiness  133 

shaken  from  head  to  foot  with  great  sobs  she  could  not 
control. 

"She  won't  go  if  you  behave  yourself,"  said  the  squire 
grimly.  "But  if  you  don't,  I'm  damned  if  I  won't  turn  her 
out  and  deal  with  you  myself." 

"Don't  be  brutal !"  breathed  Juliet. 

He  gave  her  a  swift,  fierce  look,  but  she  met  it  unflinch- 
ing and  as  swiftly  it  fell  away  from  her.  He  took  one  of 
his  wife's  feverish,  clutching  hands  and  firmly  held  it. 

"Now  you  listen  to  me !"  he  said.  "I  don't  want  to  bully 
you  but  I  can't  and  won't  have  this  sort  of  thing.  It's 
damnably  unfair  to  everybody.  So  you  pull  yourself  to- 
gether and  be  quick  about  it !" 

The  trembling  hand  clenched  in  his  grasp.  "I  hate  you !" 
gasped  Mrs.  Fielding  furiously.  "Oh,  how  I  hate  you!" 

The  man's  mouth  took  an  ominous  downward  curve. 
"I've  heard  that  before,"  he  said.  "Now  that's  enough. 
We're  not  going  to  have  a  scene  in  front  of  Miss  Moore.  If 
you  can't  control  yourself,  out  she  goes." 

"She  won't  go,"  flashed  back  Mrs.  Fielding.  "She's  on 
my  side.  Ask  her  if  she  isn't !  She  won't  leave  me  to  your 
tender  mercies  again.  She  knows  what  they  are  like." 

"Hush !"  Juliet  said.  "Don't  you  know  there  isn't  a  man 
living  who  can  stand  this  ?  Be  quiet,  my  dear,  for  heaven's 
sake!  You're  making  the  most  hideous  mistake  of  your 
life." 

She  spoke  with  most  unwonted  force,  and  again  the 
squire's  steely  eyes  shot  upwards,  regarding  her  piercingly. 

"You're  quite  right,"  he  said  briefly.  "I  won't  stand  it. 
I've  stood  too  much  already.  Now,  Vera,  you  behave  your- 
self, and  stop  that  crying — at  once!" 

There  was  that  in  his  tone  that  quelled  all  rebellion.  Vera 
shrank  closer  to  Juliet,  but  she  began  to  make  some  feeble 


i34  The  Obstacle  Race 

efforts  to  subdue  her  wild  distress.  Fielding  sat  on  the  edge 
of  the  bed,  her  hand  firmly  in  his,  and  waited.  His  expres- 
sion was  one  of  absolute  and  implacable  determination.  He 
looked  so  forbidding  and  so  formidable  that  Juliet  wondered 
a  little  at  her  own  temerity  in  remaining.  She  decided  then 
and  there  that  a  serious  disagreement  with  the  squire  would 
be  too  great  a  tax  upon  any  woman's  strength,  and  she  did 
not  wonder  that  Vera's  had  broken  down  under  it. 

Suddenly  he  spoke.    "Has  she  had  any  breakfast?" 

"Not  yet,'*  said  Juliet. 

"Oh,  don't !"  implored  Vera,  with  a  shudder. 

He  got  up  an.d  went  to  the  untouched  tray.  Juliet  watched 
him  pour  out  some  tea  as  she  smoothed  the  tumbled  hair 
back  from  his  wife's  forehead. 

He  came  back  with  the  cup  in  his  hand.  "Now,"  he  said, 
"you  are  going  to  drink  this." 

She  lifted  scared  eyes  to  his  stern  face.  "Edward !"  she 
whispered.  "Don't— oh,  don't  look  at  me  like  that!" 

He  stooped  over  her,  and  put  the  cup  to  her  lips.  She 
drank,  quivering,  not  daring  to  refuse.  When  she  had  fin- 
ished he  brought  her  bread  and  butter  and  fed  her,  mouth- 
ful by  mouthful,  while  the  tears  ran  silently  down  her  face. 

At  last  he  turned  again  to  Juliet.  "Miss  Moore,  my  wife 
will  not  object  to  your  leaving  us  now." 

It  was  a  distinct  command.  But  she  hesitated  to  obey. 
Vera  looked  up  at  her  piteously,  saying  no  word.  The  squire 
frowned  heavily,  his  eyes,  grimly,  piercingly,  upon  Juliet. 

She  met  his  look  with  steady  resolution.  "Won't  you 
leave  her  to  rest  for  a  little  while  ?"  she  said.  "I  think  she 
needs  it." 

"Very  well,"  he  said,  and  though  he  did  not  look  like 
yielding  she  realized  to  her  surprise  that  he  had  done  so. 
He  turned  to  the  door.  "I  should  like  a  word  with  you  in 


The  Way  to  Happiness  135 

the  library,"  he  said,  as  he  reached  it.  "Please  come  to  me 
there  immediately!" 

He  was  gone.  Vera  turned  with  a  sob  and  clasped  Juliet 
closely  to  her. 

"He  is  going  to  send  you  away.  I  know  he  is,"  she 
wailed.  "What  shall  I  do?  What  shall  I  do?" 

"Lie  down!"  said  Juliet  sensibly,  releasing  herself  to 
settle  the  tumbled  bedclothes.  "Don't  cry  any  more !  Just 
shut  your  eyes  and  lie  still !" 

She  laid  her  down  upon  the  pillow  with  the  words  as  if 
she  had  been  a  child,  smoothed  the  rumpled  hair  again,  and 
after  a  moment  bent  and  kissed  the  hot  forehead. 

"Oh,  thank  you !"  murmured  Mrs.  Fielding.  "I'm  dread- 
fully unhappy,  Juliet.  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do  without 
you." 

"Go  to  sleep!"  said  Juliet,  tucking  her  up.  "I'll  come 
back  presently.  Lie  quite  still  till  I  do!" 

She  guessed  that  exhaustion  would  come  to  her  aid  in 
this  particular  as  she  drew  the  curtains  close  and  turned 
away  to  face  her  own  ordeal. 

"Come  back  soon!"  Vera  called  after  her  as  she  softly 
shut  the  door. 

"Presently,"  Juliet  said  again. 

She  realized  as  she  descended  the  stairs  that  her  heart 
was  beating  uncomfortably  hard,  but  she  did  not  pause  on 
that  account.  She  wanted  to  face  the  squire  while  her  spirit 
was  still  high. 

She  held  her  head  up  as  she  entered  the  library  where  he 
awaited  her,  but  she  knew  within  herself  that  it  was  bravado 
rather  than  fearlessness  that  enabled  her  to  face  him  thus. 
And  when  he  turned  sharply  from  the  window  to  meet  her 
she  was  conscious  of  a  moment  of  most  undignified  dread. 

Whether  her  face  betrayed  her  or  not  she  never  knew, 


136  The  Obstacle  Race 

but  she  was  aware  in  an  instant  of  a  change  in  his  attitude. 
He  came  straight  up  to  her,  and  suddenly  her  hand  was  in 
his  and  he  was  looking  into  her  eyes  with  the  gleam  of  a 
smile  in  his  own. 

"Come  along !"  he  said.  "Let's  have  it !  I'm  the  biggest 
brute  you  ever  came  across,  and  you  never  want  to  set  eyes 
on  me  again.  Isn't  that  it?" 

It  was  winningly  spoken,  restoring  her  self-confidence  in 
a  second.  She  shook  her  head  in  answer. 

"No.  I'm  not  in  a  position  to  judge,  and  I  don't  think 
I  want  to  be.  I  have  no  real  liking  for  meddling  in  other 
people's  affairs." 

"Very  wise !"  he  commented.  "But  you  won't  have  much 
choice  if  you  decide  to  stay  with  us.  Are  you  going  to  stay  ?" 

"Are  you  going  to  keep  me  ?"  said  Juliet. 

"Certainly,"  he  returned  promptly.  "I  regard  you  as  the 
most  valuable  member  of  the  household  at  the  present 
moment.  Miss  Moore,  will  you  tell  me  something?" 

"If  I  can,"  said  Juliet. 

"Where  did  you  learn  such  a  lot  about  men  ?"  he  said. 

She  coloured  a  little  at  the  question.  "Well,  I  haven't  lived 
with  my  eyes  shut  all  this  time,"  she  said. 

"You  evidently  haven't,"  he  said.  "Allow  me  to  compli- 
ment you  on  your  tact !  Ninety-nine  women  out  of  a  hundred 
would  have  taken  the  obvious  course  of  siding  with  their 
own  sex  against  the  oppressor.  Why  didn't  you,  I  wonder  ?" 

"I'm  not  sure  that  I  don't,"  she  said,  smiling  faintly. 

He  pressed  her  hand  and  released  it.  "No,  you  don't. 
You've  too  much  sense.  You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  she 
deserved  all  she  got  and  more.  You  haven't  always  found 
her  exactly  easy  to  get  on  with  yourself,  I'll  be  bound." 

"I  don't  think  you  are  either  of  you  that,"  Juliet  said 
quietly. 


The  Way  to  Happiness  137 

He  nodded.  "Now  it's  coming!  I  thought  it  would. 
No,  Miss  Moore,  I  am  not  easy  to  get  on  with.  I've  had  a 
rotten  life  all  through,  and  it  hasn't  made  me  very  pliable." 
He  paused,  looking  at  her  under  his  black  brows  as  if  de- 
bating with  himself  as  to  how  far  he  would  take  her  into 
his  confidence.  "I've  been  cheated  of  the  best  from  the 
very  outset,"  he  said,  "cheated  and  thwarted  at  every  turn. 
That  sort  of  treatment  may  suit  some  people,  but  it  hasn't 
made  an  archangel  of  me."  He  fell  to  pacing  up  and  down 
the  room,  staring  moodily  at  the  floor,  his  hands  behind 
him.  "Life  is  such  an  infernal  gamble  at  the  best,"  he 
said ;  "but  I  never  had  a  chance.  It's  been  one  damn'  thing 
after  another.  I've  tripped  at  every  hurdle.  I  suppose  you 
never  came  a  cropper  in  your  life — don't  know  what  it 
means." 

"I  think  I  do  know  what  it  means,"  Juliet  said  slowly. 
"I've  looked  on,  you  know.  I've  seen — a  good  many  things." 

"Just  as  you're  looking  on  now,  eh?"  said  the  squire, 
grimly  smiling.  "Well,  you  profit  by  my  experience — if  you 
can !  And  if  love  ever  comes  your  way,  hang  on  to  it,  hang 
on  to  it  for  all  your 're  worth,  even  if  you  drop  everything  else 
to  do  it.  It's  the  gift  of  the  gods,  my  dear,  and  if  you  throw 
it  away  once  it'll  never  come  your  way  again." 

"No,  I  know,"  said  Juliet.  She  rested  her  arm  on  the 
mantelpiece,  gravely  watching  him.  "I've  noticed  that." 

"Noticed  it,  have  you  ?"  He  flung  her  a  look  as  he  passed. 
"You've  never  been  in  love,  that's  certain,  never  seriously 
I  mean, — never  up  to  the  neck." 

"No,  never  so  deep  as  that !"  said  Juliet. 

He  passed  on  to  the  end  of  the  room,  and  came  to  a  sud- 
den stand  before  the  window.  "I — have !"  he  said,  and  his 
voice  came  with  an  odd  jerkiness  as  if  it  covered  some  emo- 
tion that  he  could  not  wholly  control.  "I  won't  bore  you 


138  The  Obstacle  Race 

with  details.  But  I  loved  a  woman  once — I  loved  her  madly. 
And  she  loved  me.  But — Fate — came  between.  She's  dead 
now.  Her  troubles  are  over,  and  I'm  not  such  a  selfish 
brute  as  to  want  her  back.  Yet  I  sometimes  think  to  my- 
self— that  if  I'd  married  that  woman — I'd  have  made  her 
happy,  and  I'd  have  been  a  better  man  myself  than  I  am 
to-day."  He  swung  round  restlessly,  found  her  steady  eyes 
upon  him,  and  came  back  to  her.  "The  fact  of  the  matter 
is,  Miss  Moore,"  he  said,  "I  was  a  skunk  ever  to  marry  at  all 
—after  that." 

"It  depends  how  you  look  at  it,"  she  said  gently. 

"Don't  you  look  at  it  that  way?"  he  said,  regarding  her 
curiously. 

She  hesitated  momentarily.  "Not  entirely,  no.  The 
woman  was  dead  and  you  were  alone." 

"I  was — horribly  alone,"  he  said. 

"I  don't  think  it  was  wrong  of  you  to  marry,"  she  said. 
"Only — you  ought  to  love  your  wife." 

"Ah!"  he  said.  "I  thought  we  agreed  that  love  comes 
only  once." 

She  shook  her  head.  "Not  quite  that.  Besides,  there  are 
many  kinds  of  love."  Again  for  a  second  she  hesitated 
looking  straight  at  him.  "Shall  I  tell  you  something?  I 
don't  know  whether  I  ought.  It  is  almost  like  a  breach  of 
confidence — though  it  was  never  told  to  me." 

"What  is  it?"  he  said  imperatively. 

She  made  a  little  gesture  of  yielding.  "Yes,  I  will  tell 
you.  Mr.  Fielding,  you  might  make  your  wife  love  you — so 
dearly — if  you  cared  to  take  the  trouble." 

"What?"  he  said. 

Her  eyes  met  his  with  a  faint,  faint  smile.  "Doesn't  it 
seem  absurd,"  she  said,  "that  it  should  fall  to  me — a  com- 
parative stranger — to  tell  you  this,  when  you  have  been 


The  Way  to  Happiness  139 

together  for  so  long?  It  is  the  truth.  She  is  just  as  lonely 
and  unhappy  as  you  are.  You  could  transform  the  whole 
world  for  her — if  you  only  would." 

"What!  Give  her  her  own  way  in  everything?"  he  said. 
"Is  that  what  you're  advising  ?" 

"No.  I'm  not  advising  anything.  I  am  only  just  telling 
you  the  truth,"  said  Juliet.  "You  could  make  her  love  you 
— if  you  tried." 

He  stared  at  her  for  some  seconds  as  if  trying  to  read 
some  riddle  in  her  countenance.  "You  are  a  very  re- 
markable young  woman,"  he  said  at  last.  "I  wouldn't  part 
with  you  for  a  king's  ransom.  So  you  think  I  might  turn 
that  very  unreasonable  hatred  of  hers  into  love,  do  you  ?" 

"I  am  quite  sure,"  said  Juliet  steadily. 

"I  wonder  if  I  should  like  it  if  I  did !"  said  the  squire. 

She  laughed — a  sudden,  low  laugh.  "Yes.  You  would 
like  it  very  much.  It's  the  last  and  greatest  obstacle  be- 
tween you  and  happiness.  Once  clear  that,  and " 

"Did  you  say  happiness?"  he  broke  in  cynically. 

"Yes,  of  course  I  did."  Her  look  challenged  him.  "Once 
clear  that  and  if  you  haven't  got  a  straight  run  before  you 

"  She  paused,  looking  at  him  oddly,  very  intently,  and 

finally  stopped. 

"Well  ?"  he  said.    "Continue !" 

She  coloured  vividly  under  his  eyes. 

"I'm  afraid  I've  lost  my  thread.  It  doesn't  really  mat- 
ter. You  know  what  I  was  going  to  say.  The  way  to  hap- 
piness does  not  lie  in  pleasing  oneself.  The  self-seekers 
never  get  there." 

He  made  her  a  courteous  bow.  "Thank  you,  fairy  god- 
mother !  I  believe  you  are  right.  That  may  be  why  happi- 
ness is  so  shy  a  bird.  We  spread  the  net  too  openly.  Well," 
he  heaved  a  sigh,  "we  live  and  learn."  He  turned  to  the  table 


140  The  Obstacle  Race 

and  took  up  his  riding  whip.  "I  suppose  my  wife  will  be  in 
bed  and  sulk  all  day  because  I  vetoed  the  Graydown  Races." 

"Oh,  was  that  the  trouble?"  said  Juliet. 

He  nodded  gloomily.  "I  hate  the  set  she  consorts  with 
at  these  shows.  There  are  some  of  the  Fairharbour  set — 
impossible  people!  But  they  boast  of  being  on  nodding 
terms  with  that  arch-bounder  Lord  Saltash,  and  so  every- 
thing is  forgiven  them." 

Juliet  suddenly  stood  up  very  straight.  "I  think  I  ought 
to  tell  you,"  she  said,  "that  I  know  Lord  Saltash.  I  have 
lived  with  the  Farringmore  family,  as  you  know.  He  is  a 
friend  of  Lord  Wilchester's." 

The  squire  turned  sharply.  "I  hope  you're  going  to  tell 
me  also  that  you  can't  endure  the  man,"  he  said. 

She  made  a  little  gesture  of  negation.  "I  never  say 
that  of  anybody.  I  don't  feel  I  can  afford  to.  Life  has  too 
many  contradictions — too  many  chances.  The  person  we 
most  despise  to-day  may  prove  our  most  valuable  defender 
to-morrow." 

"Heaven  forbid!"  said  the  squire.  "You  wouldn't  touch 
such  pitch  as  that  under  any  circumstances.  Besides,  what 
do  you  want  in  the  way  of  defenders?  You're  safe  enough 
where  you  are." 

Juliet  was  smiling  whimsically.  "But  who  knows?"  she 
said.  "I  may  be  dismissed  in  disgrace  to-morrow." 

"No,"  he  said  briefly.  "That  won't  happen.  Your  posi- 
tion here  is  secure  as  long  as  you  consent  to  fill  it." 

"How  rash  of  you,"  she  said. 

"A  matter  of  opinion!"  said  Fielding.  "How  would  you 
like  to  go  over  and  see  the  cricket  at  Fairharbour  this  after- 
noon ?" 

She  gave  him  a  quick  look.  "Oh,  is  that  the  alternative 
to  the  races?" 


The  Way  to  Happiness  141 

He  frowned.  "I  have  already  told  you  the  races  are  out 
of  the  question." 

"I  see,"  said  Juliet  thoughtfully.  "Then  I  am  afraid  the 
cricket-match  is  also — unless  Mrs.  Fielding  wants  to  go." 

"I'll  make  her  go,"  said  squire. 

"No!  No!  Don't  make  her  do  anything — please!" 
begged  Juliet.  "That  is  just  the  worst  mistake  you  could 
possibly  make.  To  be  honest,  I  would  rather — much — go  to 
the  open-air  concert  at  High  Shale  this  evening." 

"Along  with  those  rowdy  miners?"  growled  the  squire. 
"I  see  enough  of  them  on  the  Bench.  Green  of  course  is 
cracked  on  that  subject.  He'd  like  to  set  the  world  in  order 
if  he  could." 

"I  admire  his  enterprise,"  said  Juliet. 

He  nodded.  "So  do  I.  He's  cussed  as  a  mule,  but 
he's  a  goer.  He's  also  a  gentleman.  Have  you  noticed 
that?" 

She  smiled.    "Of  course  I  have." 

"And  I  can't  get  my  wife  to  see  it,"  said  the  squire. 
"Just  because — by  his  own  idiotic  choice — he  occupies  a  hum- 
ble position,  she  won't  allow  him  a  single  decent  quality. 
She  classes  them  all  together,  when  anyone  can  see — anyone 
with  ordinary  intelligence  can  see — that  he  is  of  a  totally 
different  standing  from  those  brothers  of  his.  He  is  on 
another  plane  altogether.  It's  self-evident.  You  see  it  at 
once." 

"Yes,"  said  Juliet. 

He  moved  restlessly.  "I  would  have  placed  him  in 
his  proper  sphere  if  he'd  consented  to  it.  But  he  wouldn't. 
It's  a  standing  grievance  between  us.  That  fellow  Robin 
is  a  millstone  round  his  neck.  Miss  Moore,"  he  turned  on 
her  suddenly,  "you  have  a  wonderful  knack  of  making  people 
see  reason.  Couldn't  you  persuade  him  to  let  Robin  go  ?" 


i42  The  Obstacle  Race 

"Oh  no !"  said  Juliet  quickly.  "It's  the  very  last  thing  I 
would  attempt  to  do." 

"Really!"    He  looked  at  her  in  genuine  astonishment. 

Juliet  flushed.  "But  of  course !"  she  said.  "They  belong 
to  each  other.  How  could  Mr.  Green  possibly  part  with  him  ? 
You  wouldn't — surely — think  much  of  him  if  he  did?" 

"I  think  he's  mad  not  to,"  declared  the  squire.  "But,"  he 
smiled  at  her,  "I  think  it's  uncommonly  kind  of  you  to  take 
that  view,  all  the  same.  I'll  take  you  to  that  concert  to-night 
if  you  really  want  to  go." 

"Will  you?  How  kind!"  said  Juliet,  turning  to  go.  "But 
you  won't  mind  if  I  consult  Mrs.  Fielding  first  ?  I  must  do 
that." 

He  opened  the  door  for  her.  "You  are  not  to  spoil  her 
now,"  he  said.  "She's  been  spoilt  all  her  life  by  everybody." 

"Except  by  you,"  said  Juliet  daringly. 

And  with  that  parting  shot  she  left  him,  swiftly  traversing 
the  hall  to  the  stairs  without  looking  back. 

The  squire  stood  for  some  seconds  looking  after  her.  She 
had  opposed  him  at  practically  every  point,  and  yet  she  had 
not  offended  him. 

"A  very  remarkable  young  woman !"  he  said  again  to  him- 
self as  she  passed  out  of  his  sight.  "A  very — gifted  young 
woman !  Ah,  Dick,  my  friend,  she'd  make  a  rare  politician's 
wife."  And  then  another  thought  struck  him  and  he  began 
to  laugh.  "And  she'll  be  equally  charming  as  the  helpmeet 
of  the  village  schoolmaster.  Egad,  we  can't  have  every- 
thing, but  I  think  you've  found  your  fate." 


CHAPTER  VI 

RECONCILIATION 

THE  luncheon-gong  rang  through  the  house  with  a  tremen- 
dous booming,  and  Vera  Fielding,  sitting  limply  in  a  chair  by 
her  open  window,  closed  her  eyes  with  drawn  brows  as  if 
the  sound  were  too  much  for  her  overwrought  nerves.  The 
tempest  of  three  hours  before  had  indeed  left  her  spent  and 
shaken,  and  an  unacknowledged  tincture  of  shame  mingling 
with  her  exhaustion  did  not  improve  matters.  She  had  wept 
away  her  fury,  and  a  dull  resentment  sat  heavily  upon  her. 
She  had  entered  upon  the  second  stage  of  the  conflict  which 
usually  lasted  for  some  days, — days  during  which  complete 
silence  reigned  between  her  husband  and  herself  until  he 
either  departed  to  town  to  end  the  tension  or  his  wrath 
boiled  up  afresh  cowing  her  into  a  bitter  submission  to  his 
will  which  brought  nothing  but  misery  to  them  both. 

The  last  deep  notes  of  the  gong  died  away,  and  Vera's 
eyes  half -opened  again.  They  dwelt  restlessly  upon  the  bril- 
liant patch  of  garden  visible  under  the  lowered  sun-blind. 
The  splendour  of  the  June  world  without  served  to  increase 
the  wretchedness  of  her  mood  by  contrast.  The  sultry  heat 
seemed  to  weigh  her  down.  Life  was  one  vast  oppression 
and  bondage.  She  was  weary  to  the  soul. 

Juliet  had  gone  down  to  aid  Cox  in  the  selection  of  some- 
thing tempting  for  her  luncheon.  She  had  every  intention 
of  refusing  it  whatever  it  was.  Who  as  miserable  as  she 


144  The  Obstacle  Race 

could  bear  to  eat  anything — unless  forced  to  do  so  by  brutal 
compulsion  ? 

Her  head  throbbed  painfully.  Her  nerves  were  stretched 
for  the  sound  of  her  husband's  step  in  the  adjoining  room. 
She  wished  she  had  told  Juliet  to  lock  the  communicating 
door,  though  she  hardly  expected  him  to  come  in  upon  her 
a  second  time.  Even  his  wrath  had  its  limits.  It  seldom 
gathered  to  its  full  height  twice  in  a  day. 

She  was  trying  to  comfort  herself  with  this  reflection 
when  suddenly  she  heard  him  enter  his  room,  and  in  a 
moment  all  her  lassitude  vanished  in  so  violent  an  agitation 
that  she  found  herself  gasping  for  breath.  Still  she  told 
herself  that  he  would  not  come  in.  It  had  always  been  his 
habit  to  leave  her  severely  alone  after  a  battle.  He  would 
not  come  in !  Surely  he  would  not  come  in.  And  then  the 
handle  of  the  intervening  door  turned,  and  she  sank  back  in 
her  chair  with  a  sick  effort  to  appear  indifferent. 

She  did  not  look  at  him  as  he  came  in.  Only  by  the  quick 
heaving  of  her  breast  which  was  utterly  beyond  control  did 
she  betray  her  knowledge  of  his  presence.  Her  face  was 
turned  away  from  him.  She  stared  down  into  the  dazzling 
sunlight  with  eyes  that  saw  nothing. 

He  came  to  her,  halted  beside  her.  And  suddenly  a  warm 
sweet  fragrance  filled  iiie  air.  She  looked  round  in  spite  of 
herself  and  found  a  bunch  of  exquisite  lilies-of-the-valley 
close  to  her  cheek.  She  lifted  her  eyes  with  a  great  start. 

"Edward !" 

His  face  was  red.  He  looked  supremely  ill  at  ease.  He 
pushed  the  flowers  under  her  nose.  "Take  'em  for  heaven's 
sake !"  he  said  irritably.  "I  hate  the  things  myself." 

She  took  them,  too  amazed  for  comment,  and  buried  her 
face  in  their  perfumed  depths. 

He  stood  beside   her,    impatiently   clicking   his    fingers. 


Reconciliation  145 

There  fell  an  uncomfortable  silence,  during  which  Vera  grad- 
ually remembered  her  dignity  and  at  length  laid  the  flowers 
aside.  Her  agitation  had  subsided.  She  sat  and  waited  non- 
committally  for  the  new  situation  to  develop.  Even  in  their 
engagement  days  he  had  never  brought  her  flowers,  and  any 
overture  from  him  after  a  quarrel  was  a  thing  unknown. 

She  waited  therefore,  not  looking  at  him,  and  in  a  few 
moments,  very  awkwardly,  with  obvious  reluctance,  he  spoke 
again. 

"I  don't  think  we  want  to  keep  this  up  any  longer,  do  we  ? 
Seems  a  bit  senseless,  what?  I'm  ready  to  forget  it  if  you 
are." 

Again,  she  was  taken  by  surprise,  for  his  voice  had  a 
curious  urgency  that  made  her  aware  that  he  for  one  had 
certainly  had  enough  of  it,  and  there  was  that  in  her  which 
leaped  in  swift  response.  But  it  was  not  to  be  expected  of 
her  that  she  should  be  willing  to  bury  the  hatchet  at  a 
moment's  notice  after  the  treatment  she  had  received,  and 
she  checked  the  unaccountable  impulse. 

"There  are  some  things  that  it  is  not  easy  to  forget,"  she 
said  coldly. 

His  demeanour  changed  in  an  instant.  "Oh,  all  right,"  he 
said,  "if  you  prefer  to  sulk !" 

He  swung  upon  his  heel.  In  a  moment  he  would  have 
been  gone;  but  in  that  moment  the  inner  force  that  Vera 
had  ignored  suddenly  sprang  above  every  other  emotion  or 
consideration.  She  put  out  a  quick  hand  and  stayed 
him. 

"I  am  not  sulking.  I  never  sulk.  But  I  can't  behave — 
all  in  a  moment — as  if  nothing  had  happened.  Edward!" 

It  was  her  voice  that  held  pleading  now,  for  he  made  as 
if  he  would  leave  her  in  spite  of  her  detaining  hold.  She 
tightened  her  fingers  on  his  arm. 

10 


146  The  Obstacle  Race 

"Edward,  please !"  she  said. 

He  stopped.  "Well?"  he  said  gruffly.  Then,  as  she  said 
nothing  further,  he  turned  slowly  and  looked  at  her.  Her 
head  was  bent.  She  was  striving  for  self-control.  Some- 
thing in  her  attitude  went  straight  to  the  man's  heart.  She 
looked  so  small,  so  forlorn,  so  pathetic  in  her  struggle  for 
dignity. 

On  a  generous  impulse  he  flung  his  own  away.  "Oh,  come, 
my  dear!"  he  said,  and  stooping  took  her  into  his  arms. 
"I'm  sorry.  There!" 

She  clung  to  him  then,  clung  closely,  still  battling  to  check 
the  tears  that  she  knew  he  disliked. 

He  kissed  her  forehead  and  patted  her  shoulder  with  a 
queer  compunction  that  had  never  troubled  him  before  in  his 
dealings  with  her. 

"There!"  he  said.  "There!  That's  all  right,  isn't  it ?  We 
shall  have  Miss  Moore  in  directly.  Where's  your  handker- 
chief?" 

She  found  it  and  dried  her  eyes  with  her  head  against  his 
shoulder.  Then  she  lifted  a  still  quivering  face  to  his.  "Ed- 
ward,— I'm — just  as  sorry  as  you  are,"  she  said,  with  a 
catch  in  her  voice. 

He  kissed  her  again,  wondering  a  little  at  his  own  softened 
feelings.  "All  right,  my  girl.  Let's  forget  it!"  he  said. 
"You  have  a  good  lunch  and  you'll  feel  better !  What  are 
they  giving  you?  Champagne?" 

"Oh  no,  of  course  not!" 

"Well,  why  not  ?  It's  the  very  thing  you  want.  Just  the 
occasion.  What?  You  sit  still  and  I'll  go  and  see  about 
it!"  He  put  her  down  among  her  cushions,  but  she  clung 
to  him  still.  "No,  don't  go  for  a  minute !"  she  said,  with  a 

shaky  smile.  "It's  so  good  to  have  you kind  to  me  for 

once." 


Reconciliation  147 

"Good  gracious !"  he  said,  but  half  in  jest.  "Am  I  such 
a  brute  as  all  that  ?" 

She  pushed  back  her  sleeve  and  mutely  showed  him  the 
marks  upon  her  arm. 

He  looked,  and  his  brows  drew  together.     "My  doing?" 

She  nodded.  "Last  night — when — when  I  said — some- 
thing you  didn't  like about  Mr.  Green." 

He  scowled  a  moment  longer,  then  abruptly  stooped,  took 
the  white  arm  between  his  hands  and  kissed  it.  "I'll  get  a 
stick  and  beat  you  the  next  time,"  he  said.  "You  remember 
that — and  be  decent  to  Green,  see  ?" 

The  kiss  belied  the  words,  covering  also  a  certain  embar- 
rassment which  Vera  was  not  slow  to  perceive.  Because  of 
it  she  found  strength  to  abstain  from  further  argument. 
He  had  undoubtedly  conceded  a  good  deal. 

"I'll  be  decent  to  anyone,"  she  said,  "so  long  as  you  are 
decent  to  me." 

"Hear,  hear !"  said  the  squire.  "Now  dry  your  eyes  and 
be  sensible!  Miss  Moore  will  go  for  me  like  mad  if  she 
finds  you  crying  again.  If  we  don't  pull  together  we  shall 
have  that  girl  running  the  whole  show  before  we  are  much 
older,  and  neither  of  us  will  ever  dare  even  to  contradict 
the  other  in  her  presence  again.  We  shouldn't  like  that, 
should  we  ?" 

She  laughed  a  little  in  spite  of  her  wan  countenance.  "Oh, 
no,  Edward.  We  mustn't  risk  that."  Then,  with  a  touch 
of  anxiety,  "It  wasn't  Miss  Moore's  idea  that  you  should 
bring  me  flowers,  was  it?" 

"No."  The  squire  grinned  at  her  suddenly.  "The  worthy 
Columbus  was  responsible  for  that.  I  found  him  routing 
in  the  lily-bed  after  snails  or  some  such  delicacy.  He  was  so 
infernally  busy  he  made  me  feel  ashamed.  So  I  went  down 
on  my  knees  and  joined  him,  gathered  the  lot, — nearly  killed 


148  The  Obstacle  Race 

myself  over  it,  but  that's  an  unimportant  detail.  Now  for 
your  champagne!  You'll  feel  a  different  woman  when 
you've  had  it." 

He  departed,  leaving  his  wife  looking  after  him  with  an 
odd  wistfulness  in  her  eyes.  She  was  seeing  him  in  a  new 
light  which  made  her  feel  strangely  uncertain  of  herself  also. 
Was  it  possible  that  all  these  years  of  misunderstanding, 
which  she  had  regarded  as  inevitable,  might  have  been 
avoided  after  all? 

A  quick  sigh  rose  to  her  lips  as  again  she  took  his  flowers 
and  held  them  against  her  face. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   SPELL 

A  WONDERFUL  summer  evening  followed  the  sultry  day. 
The  sun  sank  gloriously  behind  High  Shale,  and  a  soft 
breeze  blew  in  from  the  sea. 

On  the  slope  of  the  hill  behind  the  lighthouse  and  above 
the  miners'  village  there  stood  an  old  thatched  barn,  and 
about  this  a  knot  of  men  and  youths  loitered,  smoking  and 
talking  in  a  desultory,  discontented  fashion.  On  the  other 
side  of  the  barn  a  shrill  cackling  proclaimed  the  presence 
of  some  of  the  feminine  portion  of  the  community,  and  the 
occasional  squall  of  a  baby  or  a  squeal  of  a  bigger  child 
testified  to  the  fact  that  the  greater  part  of  the  village  popu- 
lation awaited  the  entertainment  which  Green  contrived  to 
give  on  the  first  Saturday  of  every  month. 

He  had  started  these  concerts  two  winters  before  down 
in  the  village  of  Little  Shale,  and  they  had  originally  been 
for  men  and  boys  only,  but  the  women  had  grumbled  so 
loudly  at  their  exclusion  that  Green  had  very  soon  realized 
the  necessity  of  extending  a  welcome  to  them  also.  So  now 
they  flocked  in  a  body  to  his  support,  even  threatening  to 
crowd  out  the  men  in  the  winter  evenings  when  he  had  to 
assemble  his  audience  at  the  Village  Club  at  Little  Shale. 
But  in  the  summer,  as  a  concession  to  High  Shale,  he  held 
his  concerts,  whenever  feasible,  up  on  the  hill,  and  practically 
the  whole  of  High  Shale  village  came  to  them.  Little  Shale 

149 


150  The  Obstacle  Race 

was  also  well  represented,  but  he  always  felt  that  he  was 
in  closer  touch  with  the  miners  on  these  occasions,  when  he 
met  them  on  their  own  ground. 

The  two  villages  were  apt  to  eye  one  another  with  scant 
sympathy,  the  fisher  population  of  the  one  and  the  mining 
population  of  the  other  having  little  in  common  beyond  the 
liquor  which  they  uniformly  sought  at  The  Three  Tuns  by 
the  shore.  Green  never  permitted  any  bickering,  and  they 
were  all  alike  in  their  respect  for  him,  but  a  species  of  armed 
neutrality  which  was  very  far  removed  from  comradeship 
existed  between  them.  Fights  at  The  Three  Tuns  were  by  no 
means  of  unusual  occurrence  and  the  miners  of  High  Shale 
were  invariably  spoken  of  with  wholesale  contempt  by  the 
men  along  the  shore. 

But,  thanks  to  Green's  untiring  efforts,  they  met  on  com- 
mon ground  at  his  concerts,  and  any  member  of  the  audience 
who  dared  to  commit  any  breach  of  the  peace  on  any  of  these 
occasions  was  summarily  dealt  with  by  Green  himself.  He 
knew  how  to  keep  his  men  in  hand.  There  was  not  one  of 
them  who  ever  ventured  to  question  his  supremacy.  He 
ruled  them,  not  one  of  them  could  have  said  how.  Ashcott, 
the  manager  of  the  mine,  who  battled  in  vain  against  the 
rising  spirit  of  disorder  and  rebellion  among  them,  was  wont 
to  describe  his  influence  over  them  as  black  magic.  What- 
ever its  source  it  was  certainly  unique.  None  but  Dick 
Green  could  spring  from  the  platform,  seize  a  delinquent  by 
his  collar  or  the  scruff  of  his  neck,  and  run  him,  practically 
unresisting,  out  of  the  assembly.  His  lightning  decisions 
were  never  questioned.  His  language,  which  could  be 
forcible  upon  occasion,  never  met  with  any  retort.  The 
men  seemed  to  recognize  instinctively  that  it  was  useless  to 
stand  up  to  him.  He  could  have  compelled  them  blindfold 
and  with  his  hands  behind  him. 


The  Spell  151 

It  was  this  quality  in  him,  this  dynamic  force,  restrained 
yet  always  somehow  in  action,  that  had  affected  Juliet  so 
strangely  in  the  beginning  of  their  acquaintance.  Like  these 
rough  miners  and  fisher-folk  she  could  not  have  said  wherein 
the  attraction  lay,  but  she  recognized  in  him  that  inner  fire 
called  genius,  and  it  drew  her  unaccountably,  irresistibly. 
Whatever  the  sphere  to  which  he  had  been  born,  he  was  a 
man  created  to  lead,  to  overcome  obstacles,  to  wrest  victory 
from  failure, — a  man  who  possessed  the  rare  combination 
of  a  highly  sensitive  temperament  and  a  practically  invincible 
courage — a  man  who  could  handle  the  great  forces  of  life 
with  the  fearless  certainty  of  the  born  conqueror. 

Yes,  he  attracted  her,  undoubtedly  he  attracted  her.  He 
stirred  her  to  an  interest  which  she  had  believed  herself  too 
old,  too  jaded  with  the  ways  of  the  world,  ever  to  feel  again. 
But  she  did  not  want  to  yield  to  the  attraction.  She  wanted 
to  hold  aloof  for  a  space.  She  had  come  to  this  quiet  corner 
of  the  world  in  search  of  peace.  She  wanted  to  avoid  the 
problems  of  life,  to  get  back  her  poise,  to  become  an  onlooker 
and  no  longer  a  competitor  in  the  maddening  race  from 
which  she  had  so  lately  withdrawn  herself.  She  was  willing 
to  be  interested,  she  already  was  deeply  interested,  but  only 
as  a  spectator,  so  she  told  herself.  She  would  not  be  drawn 
in  against  her  will.  She  would  stand  aside  and  watch. 

It  was  in  this  mood  that  she  drove  off  with  the  squire  on 
the  way  to  the  open-air  concert  on  the  High  Shale  bluff  on 
that  magic  June  evening.  Mrs.  Fielding  was  too  weary  after 
the  many  emotions  of  the  day  to  accompany  them,  but  they 
left  her  in  a  tranquil  frame  of  mind,  and  the  squire  was  in 
an  unusually  good  humour.  Though  he  had  small  liking  for 
the  High  Shale  village  people,  it  pleased  him  that  Juliet 
should  take  an  interest  in  Green's  enterprises,  eccentric 
though  they  might  be.  And  he  considered  that  she  deserved 


152  The  Obstacle  Race 

a  treat  after  her  diplomatic  handling  of  a  very  difficult  situa- 
tion that  morning. 

"Might  as  well  call  and  see  if  Dick  would  like  a  lift,"  he 
said,  as  they  neared  the  gates.  "We've  got  to  pass  his 
door.  I'll  send  Jack  in." 

But  when  they  stopped  at  the  school-house  gate,  a  humped, 
familiar  figure  was  leaning  upon  it,  and  Jack  flung  an  im- 
perious question  without  descending. 

The  squire's  face  darkened  at  the  sight.  "Here's  that 
unspeakable  baboon  Robin,"  he  growled. 

Robin  paid  about  as  much  attention  to  his  brother's  curt 
query  as  he  might  have  bestowed  upon  the  buzzing  of  a  fly. 
His  dark  eyes  below  his  shaggy  thatch  of  hair  were  fixed, 
deeply  shining,  upon  Juliet. 

Jack  muttered  an  impatient  ejaculation  under  his  breath 
and  flung  himself  out  of  the  car.  Before  Juliet  could  speak 
a  word  to  intervene,  he  had  given  the  gate  on  which  Robin 
leant  a  push  that  sent  the  boy  backwards  with  considerable 
force  on  the  grass  while  he  himself  went  up  the  path  to  the 
house  at  a  run. 

"Oh,  what  a  shame!"  said  Juliet,  a  quick  vibration  of 
anger  in  her  deep  voice. 

She  leaned  forward  sharply  to  open  the  door  and  spring- 
out,  but  in  a  second  Fielding's  hand  caught  hers,  holding  her 
back. 

"No,  no !  Leave  the  young  beggar  alone !  He's  none  the 
worse.  He  can  pick  himself  up  again.  Ah,  and  here  comes 
Dick !  He'll  manage  him !" 

Robin  was  indeed  struggling  to  his  feet  with  a  furious 
bellowing  that  might  have  been  heard  on  the  shore.  But 
Dick  was  quicker  than  he.  He  came  down  the  path,  as  it 
seemed  in  a  single  bound.  He  took  Robin  by  his  swaying 
arms  and  steadied  him.  He  spoke,  quickly  and  decidedly* 


The  Spell  153 

and  the  roaring  protest  died  down  to  a  snarling,  sobbing 
sound  like  the  crying  of  a  wounded  animal.  Then,  still 
holding  him,  Dick  turned  towards  the  car  at  the  gate.  And 
Juliet  saw  that  he  was  white  with  passion.  The  fierce  blaze 
of  his  eyes  was  a  thing  she  would  not  soon  forget. 

He  spoke  with  twitching  lips.  "No,  sir.  I'm  not  coming, 
thanks.  I  shall  go  on  foot  over  the  down.  It's  only  a  quarter 
of  the  distance  that  way."  He  drew  Robin  aside  at  the 
sound  of  Jack's  approach  behind  him,  but  he  did  not  look 
at  him.  And  Robin  became  suddenly  and  terribly  silent.  He 
was  quivering  all  over  like  a  dog  that  is  held  back  from  his 
prey. 

Jack  gave  him  a  look  of  contempt  as  he  strode  past  and 
returned  to  his  seat  at  the  wheel.  And  Juliet  awoke  to  the 
fact  that  like  Robin  she  was  trembling  from  head  to  foot. 

The  car  shot  forward.  She  saw  the  two  figures  no  more. 
But  the  memory  of  Green's  face  went  with  her,  its  pallor, 
and  the  awfulness  of  his  eyes — the  red  flame  of  his  fury. 
Robin's  unrestrained  wrath  was  of  small  account  beside  it. 
She  felt  as  if  she  had  never  seen  anger  before  that  moment. 

She  scarcely  heard  the  squire's  caustic  remarks  concern- 
ing Robin.  She  was  as  one  who  had  touched  a  live  wire, 
and  her  whole  being  tingled  with  the  shock.  The  hot  glitter 
of  those  onyx  eyes  had  been  to  her  as  the  sudden  revelation 
of  a  destroying  force,  fettered  indeed,  but  how  appalling  if 
once  set  free ! 

She  looked  forward  with  a  curious  dread  to  seeing  him 
again.  She  wondered  if  the  man  who  drove  the  car  so  reck- 
lessly had  the  faintest  suspicion  of  the  storm  he  had  stirred 
up.  But  surely  he  knew  Dick  in  all  his  moods!  He  had 
probably  encountered  it  before.  They  sped  on  through  the 
fragrant  summer  night,  and  she  talked  at  random,  hardly 
knowing  what  she  said.  If  the  squire  noticed  her  preoccu- 


154  The  Obstacle  Race 

pation,  he  made  no  comment.  He  had  conceived  a  great 
respect  for  Juliet. 

They  neared  their  destination  at  last,  and  Jack  performed 
what  the  squire  called  his  favorite  circus-trick,  racing  the 
car  to  the  top  of  the  towering  cliff  and  stopping  dead  at  the 
edge  of  a  great  immensity  of  sea  and  stars. 

Again  Juliet  drew  a  deep  breath  of  sheer  marvelling  de- 
light, speaking  no  word,  held  spell-bound  by  the  wonder  of 
the  night. 

"We  needn't  hurry,"  Fielding  said.  "They  won't  be  start- 
ing yet." 

So  for  a  space  they  remained  as  though  caught  between 
earth  and  heaven,  silently  drinking  in  the  splendour. 

After  a  long  pause  she  spoke.    "Do  you  often  come  here  ?" 

"Not  now,"  he  said.  Then,  as  she  glanced  at  him:  "I 
used  to  in  the  days  of  my  youth — the  long  past  days." 

And  she  knew  by  his  tone,  by  the  lingering  of  his  words, 
that  he  had  not  always  come  alone. 

She  asked  no  more,  and  presently  the  jaunty  notes  of  a 
banjo  floating  up  the  grassy  slope  told  them  that  Green's 
entertainment  had  begun. 

They  left  the  car  at  the  top  of  the  rise,  and  walked  down 
over  the  springy  turf  towards  the  old  barn  about  which 
Dick's  audience  were  collected.  Two  hurricane  lamps  and 
a  rough  deal  table  were  all  he  had  in  the  way  of  stage  prop- 
erty. But  she  was  yet  to  learn  that  this  man  relied  upon 
surroundings  and  circumstances  not  at  all.  As  she  herself 
had  said,  possibly  the  torch  of  genius  burned  brightest  in 
dark  places,  for  it  was  certainly  genius  upon  which  she  looked 
to-night. 

He  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  deal  table  with  one  leg  crossed 
over  his  knee,  his  dark  face  thrown  into  strong  relief,  intent, 
eager,  with  a  vitality  that  seemed  to  make  it  almost  luminous. 


The  Spell  155 

From  the  crowd  that  watched  him  there  came  not  a  sound. 
The  thought  crossed  Juliet's  mind  that  the  instrument  he 
played  so  cunningly  might  have  been  a  harp  from  a  fairy 
palace.  For  there  was  magic  in  the  air.  He  played  with  a 
delicacy  that  seemed  to  wind  itself  in  threads  of  gold  about 
the  inner  fibres  of  the  soul.  They  listened  to  him  as  men 
bewitched. 

When  the  music  ended,  a  great  noise  went  up — shouts 
and  whistles  and  cat-calls.  They  were  wild  for  more.  But 
Green  knew  the  value  of  a  reserve.  He  laughed  away  the 
encores  with  a  careless,  "presently!"  and  called  a  young 
miner  to  him  for  a  song.  The  lad  sang  and  Green  accom- 
panied, and  again  Juliet  marvelled  at  the  amazing  facility  of 
his  performance.  He  seemed  to  be  able  to  adapt  the  instru- 
ment to  every  mood  or  tone.  The  boy's  voice  was  rough 
and  untrained,  but  it  held  a  certain  appeal  and  by  sheer 
intuition — comradeship  as  it  seemed — Green  brought  it  home 
to  the  hearers.  The  man's  unfailing  responsiveness  was  a 
revelation  to  her.  She  believed  it  was  the  secret  of  his  charm. 

When  the  song  was  ended,  a  fisherman  came  forward  and 
danced  a  hornpipe  on  the  table,  again  to  the  thrumming  of 
the  banjo,  without  which  nothing  seemed  complete.  It  was 
while  this  was  in  progress  that  a  thick-set,  somewhat  bullet- 
headed  man  came  up  and  addressed  the  squire  by  name. 

"We  don't  often  see  you  here,  Mr.  Fielding." 

The  squire  turned.  "Hullo,  Ashcott.  Your  lambs  are  in 
force  to-night.  How  are  they  behaving  themselves?" 

"Pretty  fair,"  said  Ashcott.  "They're  getting  the  strike 
rot  like  the  rest  of  the  world.  We  shan't  hold  'em  for  ever. 
If  any  of  the  Farringmore  lot  turned  up  here,  I  wouldn't 
answer  for  'em.  Lord  Wilchester  talked  of  motoring  down 
the  other  day,  bringing  friends  if  you  please  to  see  the  mine. 
I  warned  him  off — the  damn'  fool!  Simply  asking  for 


156  The  Obstacle  Race 

trouble,  as  I  told  him.  'Well,  what's  the  matter?'  he  said. 
'What  do  they  want?'  'They'd  like  houses  instead  of  pig- 
sties for  one  thing,'  I  said.  And  he  laughed  at  that.  'Oh, 
let  'em  go  to  the  devil !'  he  said.  'I  haven't  got  any  money 
to  spare  for  luxuries  of  that  kind.'  So  far  as  that  goes  I 
believe  he  is  hard  up,  but  then  look  at  the  way  they  live! 
They'd  need  to  be  multi-millionaires  to  keep  it  up." 

The  man's  speech  was  crude,  even  brutal,  and  the  girl  on 
Fielding's  other  side  shivered  a  little  and  drew  a  pace  away. 
It  was  very  evident  on  which  side  his  sympathies  lay.  There 
was  more  than  a  tinge  of  the  street  ranter  in  his  utterance. 
She  was  glad  that  Fielding  spared  her  an  introduction. 

She  tried  to  turn  her  attention  back  to  the  entertainment, 
but  the  coarse  words  hung  in  her  memory  like  an  evil  cloud. 
They  recalled  Green's  brief  condemnation  of  the  previous 
evening.  Evidently  his  point  of  view  was  the  same.  He 
regarded  the  whole  social  system  as  evil.  Had  not  the  squire 
told  her  that  he  wanted  to  reform  the  world  ? 

The  evening  wore  on,  and  with  unfaltering  resource  Dick 
Green  kept  the  interest  of  his  audience  from  flagging.  He 
chose  his  assistants  with  insight  and  skill,  and  every  item 
on  his  program  scored  a  success.  His  banjo  was  in  almost 
continuous  demand  throughout,  but  finally,  just  at  the  end, 
he  laid  it  aside. 

He  took  something  from  his  pocket ;  what  it  was  Juliet  could 
not  see,  but  she  caught  the  gleam  of  metal  in  the  lamp-light, 
and  in  a  moment  a  great  buzz  of  pleasure  spread  through  the 
crowd.  And  then  it  began — such  music  as  she  had  never 
dreamed  of — such  music  as  surely  was  never  fluted  save  from 
the  pipes  of  Pan.  A  long,  sweet,  thrilling  note  like  the  call 
of  a  nightingale,  starting  far  away,  drawing  swiftly  nearer, 
nearer,  till  she  felt  as  if  it  ended  against  her  heart,  and  then 
all  the  joy  of  spring,  of  youth,  of  hope,  poured  forth  in  an 


The  Spell  157 

amazing  ecstasy  of  silver  sound — showers  of  fairy  notes  like 
the  dancing  of  tiny  feet  or  the  lightest  patter  of  summer 
rain  that  ever  fell  upon  opening  leaves — and  the  gold-flecked 
sunshine  that  shimmered  in  the  crystal  dawning  of  a  day 
new-born.  Afterwards  there  came  the  sound  of  waterfalls 
and  laughing  streams  and  the  calling  of  fairy  voices,  the 
tinkle  of  fairy  laughter,  and  then  the  sea  and  shoaling  water 
— shoaling  water — breaking  in  a  million  sparkles  over  the 
rocks  of  an  enchanted  strand ! 

And  it  was  to  her  alone  that  that  wonder-music  spoke. 
She  and  he  were  wandering  alone  together  along  that  fairy 
shore  where  every  sea-shell  gleamed  like  pearl  and  every 
wave  broke  iridescent  at  their  feet.  The  sun  shone  in  the  sky 
for  them  alone,  and  the  caves  were  mystic  palaces  of  delight 
that  awaited  their  coming.  And  once  it  seemed  to  her  that 
he  drew  her  close,  and  she  felt  his  kisses  on  her  lips  .... 

Ah,  surely  this  was  the  midsummer  madness  of  which 
they  had  spoken!  It  was  a  vision  that  could  not  last,  but 
the  wonder  of  it — ah,  the  wonder  of  it! — she  would  carry 
for  ever  in  her  heart. 

It  ended  at  length,  but  so  softly,  so  tenderly,  that,  spell- 
bound, she  never  knew  when  lingering  sound  became  en- 
during silence.  She  awoke  as  it  were  from  a  long  dream 
and  knew  that  her  heart  was  beating  with  a  wild  and  poign- 
ant longing  that  was  pain.  Then  there  arose  a  great  shout- 
ing, and  instinctively  she  laid  her  hand  on  Fielding's  arm 
and  drew  him  away. 

"Had  enough?"  he  asked. 

She  nodded.  Somehow  for  the  moment  she  could  find 
no  words.  She  had  a  feeling  as  of  unshed  tears  at  her 
throat.  Ah,  what  had  moved  him  to  play  to  her  like  that? 
And  why  did  it  hurt  her  so? 

She  moved  back  up  the  grassy  slope  still  with  that  curi- 


158  The  Obstacle  Race 

ous  sense  of  pain.  Something  had  happened  to  her,  some- 
thing had  pierced  her.  By  that  strange  and  faun-like 
power  of  his  he  had  reached  out  and  touched  her  inmost 
soul,  and  she  knew  as  she  went  away  that  she  was  changed. 
He  had  cast  a  glittering  spell  upon  her,  and  nothing  could 
ever  be  the  same  again. 

After  a  space  she  spoke  at  random  and  Fielding  made 
reply.  With  the  instinct  of  self-defence  she  maintained 
some  species  of  casual  conversation  during  their  stroll  back 
to  the  waiting  car,  but  she  never  had  the  vaguest  recollection 
afterwards  as  to  what  passed  between  them. 

She  was  thankful  to  be  swooping  back  again  through  the 
summer  night.  An  urgent  desire  for  solitude  was  upon  her. 
All  her  throbbing  pulses  cried  out  for  it.  Was  it  but  yester- 
day— but  yesterday  that  she  had  felt  so  safe  ?  And  now — 

Later,  alone  in  her  room  at  the  Court,  she  leaned  from 
her  open  window  seeking  with  an  almost  frantic  intensity 
to  recover  the  peace  that  had  been  hers.  How  had  she  lost 
it?  She  could  not  say.  Was  it  the  mere  piping  of  a  flute 
that  had  reft  it  from  her?  She  wanted  to  laugh  at  herself, 
but  could  not.  It  was  too  absurd,  too  fantastic,  for  every- 
day, prosaic  existence,  that  rhapsody  of  the  starlight,  but  to 
her  it  had  been  pure  magic.  In  it  she  had  heard  the  call  of 
a  man's  being,  seeking  hers,  and  by  every  hidden  chord  that 
had  vibrated  in  answer  she  knew  that  he  had  not  called  in 
vain.  That  was  the  knowledge  that  pierced  her — the  know- 
ledge that  she  was  caught— against  her  will, — still  wildly 
struggling  for  freedom — but  caught. 

It  had  happened  so  suddenly,  so  amazingly.  Yesterday 
she  had  been  free — only  yesterday — Or  stay !  Perhaps  even 
then  the  net  had  been  about  her  feet,  and  he  had  known  it. 
How  otherwise  had  he  spoken  so  intimately — dared  so  much  ? 

She  drew  a  long,  deep  breath,  recalling  his  look,  his  touch, 


The  Spell  159 

his  voice.  Ah!  Midsummer  madness  indeed!  But  she 
could  not  stay  to  face  it.  She  must  go.  The  way  was  still 
open  behind  her.  She  would  escape  as  she  had  come,  a  fugi- 
tive from  the  force  that  pursued  her  so  relentlessly.  She 
would  not  suffer  herself  to  be  made  a  captive.  She  would  go. 

Again  she  drew  a  long  breath,  but  curiously  it  broke,  as  if 
a  sharp  spasm  had  gripped  her  heart.  She  stood,  struggling 
with  herself.  And  then  suddenly  she  dropped  upon  her 
knees  by  the  sill  with  her  arms  flung  wide  and  her  head  with 
its  cloudy  mass  of  hair  bowed  low. 

"O  God!  O  God!"  she  whispered  convulsively.  "Save 
me  from  this !  Help  me  to  go — while  I  can !  I  am  so  tired — 
so  tired !" 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  HONOURS  OF  WAR 

COLUMBUS  was  not  accustomed  to  being  awakened  in  the 
early  June  morning  and  taken  for  a  scamper  when  the  sun 
was  still  scarcely  two  hours  up.  He  arose  blinking  at  his 
mistress's  behest,  and  but  for  her  brisk  urging  he  would 
have  turned  over  again  and  slept.  But  Juliet  was  insistent. 

"I'm  going  down  to  the  shore,  you  old  sleepy-head,"  she 
told  him.  "Don't  you  want  to  come  ?" 

She  herself  had  scarcely  slept  throughout  the  brief  night, 
and  a  great  yearning  for  the  sunshine  and  the  sea  was  upon 
her.  The  solitude  of  the  beach  drew  her  irresistibly.  It  was 
Sunday  morning,  and  she  knew  that  no  one  but  herself 
would  be  up  for  hours.  She  had  grown  to  love  it  so, 
the  silence  and  the  shining  emptiness  and  the  marvel  of  the 
sea.  She  could  not  remember  any  other  place  that  had  ever 
attracted  her  in  the  same  way.  It  suited  every  mood. 

There  was  a  short  cut  across  the  park,  and  she  and  Colum- 
bus took  it,  hastening  over  the  dewy  grass  till  they  reached 
a  path  that  led  to  the  cliffs  and  the  shore.  Only  the  larks 
above  them  and  the  laughing  waves  before,  made  music  in 
this  world  of  the  early  morning.  The  peacefulness  of  it  was 
like  a  benediction. 

"And  before  the  Throne  there  was  a  sea  of  glass  like  unto 

crystal "  She  found  herself  murmuring  the  words, 

for  in  that  morning  purity  it  seemed  to  her  that  the  very 

160 


The  Honours  of  War  161 

ground  beneath  her  feet  was  holy.  She  was  conscious  of  a 
throbbing  desire  to  reach  out  to  the  Infinite,  to  bring  her 
troubled  spirit  to  the  Divine  waters  of  healing. 

She  reached  the  shingly  shore,  and  went  down  over  the 
stones  to  the  waves  breaking  in  the  sunlight.  Yes,  she  was 
tired — she  was  tired ;  but  this  was  peace.  The  tears  sprang 
to  her  eyes  as  she  stood  there.  What  a  place  to  be  happy  in ! 
But  happiness  was  not  for  her. 

After  a  space  she  turned  and  walked  along  the  strand  till 
she  came  to  the  spot  where  she  and  Columbus  had  first  sat 
together  and  played  at  being  wrecked  on  a  desert  island. 
And  here  she  sat  down  and  put  her  arms  around  her  faith- 
ful companion  and  leaned  her  head  against  his  rough 
coat. 

"I  wish  it  had  been  true,  Columbus,"  she  said.  "We  were 
so  happy  just  alone." 

He  kissed  her  with  all  a  dog's  pure  devotion,  sensing 
trouble  and  seeking  to  comfort.  As  he  had  told  her  many 
a  time  before,  her  company  was  really  all  his  soul  desired. 
All  other  interests  were  mere  distractions.  She  was  the  only 
thing  that  counted  in  his  world. 

His  earnest  assurances  on  this  point  had  their  effect.  She 
sat  up  and  smiled  at  him  through  her  tears. 

"Yes,  I  know,  my  Christopher,"  she  said,  and  kissed  him 
between  the  eyes.  "But  the  difficulty  now  is,  what  are  we 
going  to  do?" 

Columbus  pondered  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then  sug- 
gested a  crab-hunt. 

"Excellent  idea !"  said  Juliet,  and  let  him  go. 

But  she  herself  sat  on  in  the  early  sunshine  with  her  chin 
upon  her  hand  for  a  long,  long  time. 

The  tide  was  coming  in.  The  white-tipped  waves  broke  in 
flashing  foam  that  spread  almost  to  her  feet.  The  sparkle 


1 62  The  Obstacle  Race 

of  it  danced  in  her  dreaming  eyes,  but  it  did  not  rouse  her 
from  her  reverie. 

Perhaps  she  was  half  asleep  after  the  weary  watching 
of  the  night,  or  perhaps  she  was  only  too  tired  to  notice,  but 
when  a  voice  suddenly  spoke  behind  her  she  started  as  if  at 
an  electric  shock.  She  had  almost  begun  to  feel  that  she 
and  Columbus  were  indeed  marooned  on  this  wide  shore. 

"Are  you  waiting  for  the  sea  to  carry  you  away  ?"  the  voice 
said.  "Because  you  won't  have  to  wait  much  longer  now." 

She  turned  as  she  sat.  She  had  heard  no  sound  of  ap- 
proaching feet.  The  swish  of  the  waves  had  covered  all 
beside.  She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  feeling  of  utter  help- 
lessness. "You !"  she  said. 

He  turned  behind  her,  slim,  upright,  intensely  vital,  in 
the  morning  light.  She  had  an  impression  that  he  was 
dressed  in  loose  flannels,  and  she  saw  a  bath-towel  hanging 
round  his  neck. 

"You  have  been  bathing,"  she  said. 

He  laughed  down  at  her,  she  saw  the  gleam  of  the  white 
teeth  in  his  dark  face.  "I  say,  what  a  good  guess!  You 
look  shocked.  Is  it  wrong  to  bathe  on  Sunday  ?" 

And  then  quite  naturally  he  stretched  a  hand  to  her  and 
helped  her  to  her  feet. 

"I've  been  watching  you  for  a  long  time,"  he  said.  "I 
was  only  a  dot  in  the  ocean,  so  of  course  you  didn't  see  me. 
I  say, — tell  me, — what's  the  matter?" 

The  question  was  so  sudden  that  it  caught  her  unawares. 
She  found  herself  looking  straight  into  the  dark  eyes  and 
wondering  at  their  steady  kindliness.  She  knew  instinctively 
that  she  looked  into  the  eyes  of  a  friend,  and  as  a  friend 
she  spoke  in  answer. 

"I  have  had  rather  a  worrying  night.  I  came  out  for  a 
little  fresh  air.  It  was  such  a  perfect  morning." 


The  Honours  of  War  163 

"And  you  hoped  you  would  have  the  place  to  yourself 
and  be  able  to  cry  it  off  in  comfort,"  he  said.  "I  wouldn't 
have  interfered  for  the  world  if  I  hadn't  been  afraid  that 
you  were  going  to  drown  yourself  into  the  bargain.  And  I 
really  couldn't  bear  that.  There  are  limits,  you  know." 

She  laughed  a  little  in  spite  of  herself.  "No,  I  have  no 
intention  of  drowning  myself.  I  am  not  so  desperate  as 
that." 

He  smiled  at  her  whimsically.  "It  happens  sometimes 
unintentionally.  Let's  climb  up  to  the  next  shelf  and  sit 
down!" 

Her  hand  was  still  in  his.  He  kept  it  to  help  her  up  the 
tumbling  stones  to  a  higher  ridge  of  shingle. 

"Will  this  do?"  he  asked  her.  "May  I  stay  for  a  bit? 
I'll  be  very  good." 

"You  always  are  good,"  said  Juliet,  as  she  sat  down. 

"No?  Really?  You  don't  mean  that?  Well,  it's  aw- 
fully kind  of  you  if  you  do,  but  it  isn't  true."  He  dropped 
down  beside  her  and  offered  her  his  cigarette-case.  "I  can 
be — I  have  been — a  perfect  devil  sometimes." 

"Yes.    I  know,"  she  said,  as  she  chose  a  cigarette. 

"Oh,  you  know  that,  do  you  ?  How  do  you  know  ?"  He 
was  watching  her  closely,  but  as  the  faint  colour  mounted  to 
her  face,  his  eyes  fell.  "No,  don't  tell  me!  It  doesn't 
matter.  Wait  while  I  get  you  a  match !" 

He  struck  one  and  held  it  first  for  her  and  then  for  him- 
self, his  brown  hand  absolutely  steady.  Then  he  turned  with 
a  certain  resolution  and  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  gleaming 
horizon. 

"It  was  kind  of  you  to  come  round  to  the  sing-song  last 
night,"  he  said,  after  a  pause.  "I  hope  it  wasn't  that  that 
made  you  sleep  badly." 

"I    enjoyed   it,"   said   Juliet,    ignoring   the   last   remark. 


164  The  Obstacle  Race 

"Your  performance  was  wonderful.  I  should  think  you  are 
tired  after  it." 

"That  sort  of  thing  doesn't  tire  me,"  he  said.  "There's 
no  difficulty  about  it  when  it  goes  with  a  swing  and  every- 
body is  out  to  make  it  a  success.  I  shall  get  you  to  sing 
next  time." 

She  shook  her  head.    "I'm  afraid  not,  Mr.  Green." 

"Why  not?"  He  turned  and  looked  at  her  again,  his 
hand  shading  his  eyes. 

She  hesitated. 

"Do  you  mind  telling  me?"  he  said  gently.  "There  is  a 
reason  of  course?" 

"Yes."  Yet  she  smoked  her  cigarette  in  silence  after  the 
word  as  though  there  were  nothing  more  to  be  said. 

He  sat  motionless,  still  with  his  hand  over  his  eyes.  At 
last  "Juliet,"  he  said,  his  voice  very  low,  "am  I  being — a 
nuisance  to  you?" 

She  looked  at  him  swiftly.  He  had  uttered  the  name  so 
spontaneously  that  she  wondered  if  he  realized  that  he  had 
made  use  of  it. 

He  went  on  before  she  could  find  words  to  answer  him. 
"I'm  not  a  bounder.  At  least  I  hope  not.  But — yesterday — 
last  night — I  hadn't  got  such  a  firm  hold  on  myself  as  usual. 
I  began  by  being  furiously  angry — you  remember  the  episode 
at  the  gate: — and  that  weakened  my  self-control.  Then — 
when  I  knew  you  were  standing  there  listening — temptation 
came  to  me,  and  I  hadn't  the  strength  to  resist.  You  knew, 
didn't  you  ?  You  understood  ?" 

She  nodded  mutely. 

"Will  you  forgive  me?"  he  said. 

She  was  silent.  How  could  she  tell  him  what  that  wild 
passion  of  music  had  done  to  her? 

He  went  on  after  a  moment.    "I  hope  you'll  try  anyway, 


The  Honours  of  War  165 

because  I  never  meant  to  offend  you.  Only  somehow  I 
felt  possessed.  I  had  to  reach  you — or  die.  But  I  didn't 
mean  to  hurt  you.  My  dear,  you  do  believe  that,  don't 
you  ?  My  love  is  more  than  a  selfish  craving.  I  can  do  with- 
out you.  I  will — since  I  must.  But  I  shall  go  on  loving  you 
—all  my  life." 

His  voice  was  still  very  low,  but  it  had  steadied.  He 
spoke  with  the  strong  purpose  of  a  man  secure  in  his  own 
self-mastery.  He  loved  her,  but  he  made  no  demand  upon 
her.  He  recognized  that  his  love  entitled  him  to  no  claim. 
He  even  asked  her  forgiveness  for  having  revealed  it  to  her. 

And  suddenly  the  hot  tears  welled  again  in  Juliet's  eyes. 
She  could  not  speak  in  answer,  but  in  a  moment  she  stretched 
her  hand  to  his. 

He  took  it  and  held  it  close.  "Don't  cry !"  he  said  gently. 
"I'm  not  worth  it.  I've  been  a  fool — no,  not  a  fool  to  love 
you,  but  a  three  times  idiot  to  lose  hold  of  myself  like  this. 
There!  It's  over.  I'm  not  going  to  bother  you  any  more. 
And  you're  not  going  to  let  yourself  be  bothered.  What? 
You're  not  going  to  run  away  because  of  me,  are  you? 
Promise  me  you  won't!" 

Her  fingers  closed  upon  his.  It  was  almost  involuntarily. 
"I  don't  think  I  ought  to  stay,"  she  whispered. 

"I  knew  that  was  it!"  He  bent  towards  her.  "Juliet! 
I  say,  please,  dear,  please!  If  one  of  us  must  go,  it  must 
be  I.  But  there  is  no  need.  Believe  me,  there  is  no  need. 
I've  got  myself  in  hand.  I  won't  come  near  you — I  swear — 
if  you  don't  wish  it." 

"But — suppose — suppose — "  Her  voice  broke.  She 
drew  her  hand  free  and  covered  her  face.  "Oh,  it's  all  so 
hopeless !"  she  sobbed.  "I  ought  to  have  managed — better." 

"No,  no !"  In  a  flash  his  arm  was  round  her,  strong  and 
ready;  he  drew  her  to  rest  against  his  shoulder.  "There's 


166  The  Obstacle  Race 

nothing  to  cry  about  really — really!  If  you  knew  how  I 
loathe  myself  for  making  you  cry!  But  listen!  Nobody 
knows.  Nobody's  going  to  know.  What  happened  last  night 
is  between  you  and  me  alone.  Only  you  had  the  key.  It 
isn't  going  to  make  any  difference  in  your  life.  You'll  go 
on  as  you  were  before.  You'll  forget  I  ever  dared  to  intrude 
on  you.  What,  drrling?  What?  Yes,  you  will  forget.  Of 
course  you'll  forget.  I'll  see  to  it  that  you  do.  I'll— I'll— " 

"Oh,  stop !"  Juliet  said,  and  suddenly  her  face  was  turned 
upwards  on  his  shoulder,  her  forehead  was  against  his  neck. 
"You're  making  the  biggest  mistake  of  your  life !" 

"What?"  he  said,  and  fell  abruptly  silent  and  so  tensely 
still  that  she  thought  even  his  heart  must  have  been  arrested 
on  the  word. 

For  a  long,  long  second  she  also  was  motionless,  rigidly 
pressed  to  him,  then  with  an  odd  little  fluttering  sigh  she 
began  to  withdraw  herself  from  the  encircling  arm.  "I've 
dropped  my  cigarette,"  she  said. 

"Juliet!"  He  stooped  over  her;  his  face  was  close  to 
hers.  "Am  I  mad?  Or  am  I  dreaming?  Please  make  me 
understand!  What  is  the  mistake  I  have  made?" 

She  did  not  look  at  him,  but  he  saw  that  her  tears  were 
gone  and  she  was  faintly,  tremulously  smiling.  "That 
cigarette — "  she  murmured.  "It  really  isn't  safe  to  leave  it. 
I  don't  like — playing  with  fire." 

He  bent  lower.  "We've  got  to  risk  something,"  he  said, 
and  with  a  swiftness  of  decision  that  she  had  not  expected 
he  took  her  chin  and  turned  her  face  fully  upwards  to  his 
own. 

The  colour  rushed  in  vivid  scarlet  to  her  temples.  She  met 
his  eyes  for  one  fleeting  second  then  closed  her  own  with  a 
gasp  and  a  blind  effort  to  escape  that  was  instantly  quelled. 
For  he  kissed  her — he  kissed  her — pressing  his  lips  to  hers 


The  Honours  of  War  167 

closely  and  ever  more  closely,  as  a  man  consumed  with 
thirst  draining  the  cup  to  the  last  precious  drop. 

When  he  let  her  go,  she  was  burning,  quivering,  tingling 
from  head  to  foot  as  if  an  electric  current  were  coursing 
through  and  through  her.  And  the  citadel  had  fallen.  She 
made  no  further  attempt  to  keep  him  out. 

But  he  did  not  kiss  her  a  second  time.  He  only  held  her 
against  his  heart.  "Ah,  Juliet — Juliet!"  he  said,  and  she 
felt  the  deep  quiver  of  his  words.  "I've  got  you — now! 
You  are  mine." 

She  was  panting,  wordless,  thankful  to  avail  herself  of 
the  shelter  he  offered.  She  leaned  against  him  for  many 
seconds  in  palpitating  silence. 

For  so  long  indeed  was  she  silent  that  in  the  end  misgiving 
pierced  him  and  he  felt  for  the  downcast  face.  But  in  a 
moment  she  reached  up  and  took  his  hand  in  hers,  restrain- 
ing him. 

"Not  again !"  she  whispered.    "Please  not  again !" 

"All  right.  I  won't,"  he  said.  "Not  yet  anyhow.  But 
speak  to  me !  Tell  me  it's  all  right !  You're  not  frightened  ?" 

"I  am — a  little,"  she  confessed. 

"Not  at  me!    Juliet!" 

"No,  not  at  you.  At  least,"  she  laughed  unsteadily.  "I'm 
not  quite  sure.  You — you — I  think  you  must  let  me  go  for 
a  minute — to  get  back  my  balance." 

"Must  I?"  he  said. 

She  lifted  the  hand  she  had  taken  and  laid  it  against  her 
cheek.  "I've  got — a  good  deal  to  say  to  you,  Dick,"  she 
said.  "You've  taken  me  so  completely  by  storm.  Please 
be  generous  now!  Please  let  me  have — the  honours  of 
war!" 

"My  dear !"  he  said. 

He  let  her  go  with  the  words,  and  she  clasped  her  hands 


1 68  The  Obstacle  Race 

about  her  knees  and  looked  out  to  sea.  She  was  still 
trembling  a  little,  but  as  he  sat  beside  her  in  unbroken 
silence  she  grew  gradually  calmer,  and  presently  she  spoke 
without  any  apparent  difficulty. 

"You've  taken  a  good  deal  for  granted,  Dick,  haven't 
you?  You  don't  know  me  very  well." 

"Don't  I?"  he  said. 

"No.  You've  been — dreadfully  headlong  all  through." 
She  smiled  faintly,  with  a  touch  of  sadness.  "You've  skipped 
all  the  usual  preliminaries — which  isn't  always  wise.  Don't 
you  teach  your  boys  to  look  before  they  leap?" 

"When  there's  time,"  he  said.  "But  you  know,  dear, 
you  gave  the  word  for — the  final  plunge." 

She  nodded  slowly  once  or  twice.  "Yes.  But  I  didn't 
expect  quite — quite — Well,  never  mind  what  I  expected! 
The  fact  remains,  we  haven't  known  each  other  long  enough. 
No,  I  know  we  can't  go  back  now  and  begin  again.  But, 
Dick,  I  want  you — and  it's  for  your  sake  as  much  as  for 
my  own — I  want  you,  please,  to  be  very  patient.  Will  you  ? 
May  I  count  on  that  ?" 

He  put  out  his  hand  to  her  and  gently  touched  her 
shoulder.  "Don't  talk  to  me  like  a  slave  appealing  to  a 
sultan !"  he  said. 

She  made  a  little  movement  towards  him,  but  she  did  not 
turn.  "I  don't  want  to  hurt  you,"  she  said.  "But  I'm  going 
to  ask  of  you  something  that  you  won't  like — at  all." 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  he  said. 

"I  want  you — "  she  paused,  then  turned  and  resolutely 
faced  him — "I  want  you  to  be — just  friends  with  me  again," 
she  said. 

His  eyes  looked  straight  into  hers.  "In  public  you  mean  ?'* 
he  said. 

"In  private  too,"  she  answered. 


The  Honours  of  War  169 

"For  how  long?"  Swiftly  he  asked  the  question,  his 
eyes  still  holding  hers  with  a  certain  mastery  of  possession. 

She  made  a  slight  gesture  of  pleading.  "Until  you  know 
me  better,"  she  said. 

His  brows  went  up.  "That's  not  a  business  proposition, 
is  it?  You  don't  really  expect  me  to  agree  to  that.  Now 
do  you  ?" 

"Ah!  But  you've  got  to  understand,"  she  said  rather 
piteously.  "I'm  not  in  the  least  the  sort  of  woman  you  think 
I  am.  I'm  not — Dick,  I'm  not — a  specially  good  woman." 

She  spoke  the  words  with  painful  effort,  her  eyes  wavered 
before  his.  But  in  a  moment,  without  hesitation,  he  had 
leapt  to  the  rescue. 

"My  darling,  don't  tell  me  that !  I  can  see  what  you  are. 
I  know !  I  know !  I  don't  want  your  own  valuation.  I 
won't  listen  to  it.  It's  the  one  point  on  which  your  opinion 
has  no  weight  whatever  with  me.  Please  don't  say  any 
more  about  it!  It's  you  that  I  love — just  as  you  are.  If 
you  were  one  atom  less  human,  you  wouldn't  be  you,  and  my 
love — our  love — might  never  have  been." 

She  sighed.  "It  would  have  saved  a  lot  of  trouble  if  it 
hadn't,  Dick." 

"Don't  be  silly!"  he  said.  "Is  there  anything  else  that 
matters  half  as  much?" 

She  was  silent,  but  her  look  was  dubious.  He  drew 
suddenly  close  to  her,  and  slipped  his  hand  through  her  arm. 

"Is  there  anything  else  that  really  matters  at  all,  Juliet? 
Tell  me!  I've  got  to  know.  Does — Robin  matter?" 

She  started  at  the  question.  It  was  obviously  unexpected. 
"No  Of  course  not !"  she  said. 

"Thank  you,"  he  said  steadily.  "I  loved  you  -for  that 
before  you  said  it." 

She  laid  her  hand  upon  his  and  held  it.    "That's — one  of 


170  The  Obstacle  Race 

the  things  I  love  you  for,  Dick,"  she  said,  with  eyes  down- 
cast. "You  are  so — splendidly — loyal." 

"Sweetheart !"  he  said  softly.    "There's  no  virtue  in  that." 

Her  brows  were  slightly  drawn.  "I  think  there  is.  Any- 
way it  appeals  to  me  tremendously.  You  would  stick  to 
Robin — whatever  the  cost." 

"Well,  that  of  course!"  he  said.  "I  flatter  myself  I  am 
necessary  to  Robin.  But  with  Jack  it  is  otherwise.  I've 
kicked  him  out." 

"Dick!"     She  looked  at  him  in  sharp  amazement. 

He  smiled,  a  thin-lipped  smile.  "Yes.  It  had  to  be.  I've 
put  up  with  him  long  enough.  I  told  him  so  last  night." 

"You — quarrelled?"  said  Juliet. 

"No.  We  didn't  quarrel.  I  gave  him  his  marching  or- 
ders, that's  all." 

"But  wasn't  he  very  angry?" 

"Oh,  pshaw!"  said  Dick.    "What  of  it?" 

She  was  looking  at  him  intently,  for  there  was  some- 
thing merciless  about  his  smile.  "Do  you  always  do  that, 
I  wonder?"  she  said,  "with  the  people  who  make  you 
angry  ?" 

"Do  what?"  he  said. 

"Kick  them  out."    Her  voice  held  a  doubtful  note. 

He  turned  his  hand  upwards  and  clasped  hers.  "My 
darling,  it  was  a  perfectly  just  sentence.  He  deserved  it. 
Also — though  I  admit  I  have  only  thought  of  this  since — 
it's  the  best  thing  that  could  happen  to  him.  He  can  make 
his  own  way  in  life.  It's  high  time  he  did  so.  I  didn't 
kick  him  out  because  I  was  angry  with  him  either." 

"But  you  were  angry,"  she  said.  "You  were  nearly  white- 
hot." 

He  laughed.  "I  kept  my  hands  off  him  anyhow.  But  I 
can't  be  answerable  for  the  consequences  if  anyone  sets  to 


The  Honours  of  War  171 

work  to  bait  Robin  persistently.  It's  not  fair  to  the  boy — 
to  either  of  us." 

"Do  you  think  Robin  might  do  him  a  mischief?"  she 
asked. 

"I  think — someone  might,"  he  answered  grimly.  "But 
never  mind  that  now!  You  don't  regard  Robin  as  a  just 
cause  and  impediment.  What's  the  next  obstacle?  My 
profession?" 

"No,"  she  said  instantly  and  emphatically.  "I  like  that 
part  of  you.  There's  something  rather  quaint  about  it." 

His  quick  smile  flashed  upon  her.  "Oh,  thanks  awfully! 
I'm  glad  I'm  quaint.  But  I  didn't  know  it  was  a  quality 
that  appealed  to  you.  I've  been  laying  even  odds  with  my- 
self that  I'd  make  you  have  me  in  spite  of  it." 

She  coloured  a  little.  "It  doesn't  really  count  one  way  or 
the  other  with  me,  Dick,  any  more  than  it  would  count  with 
you  if  I  hawked  stale  fish  in  the  street  for  cat's  meat.  You 
see  I  haven't  forgotten  that  pretty  compliment  of  yours. 
But—" 

"But?"  he  said,  frowning  whimsically.  We'll  have  the 
end  of  that  sentence,  please.  It's  the  very  thing  I  want  to 
get  at.  What  is  the  'but'  ?" 

She  hesitated. 

"Go  on!"  he  commanded. 

"Don't  be  a  tyrant,  Dick!"  she  said. 

"My  beautiful  princess!"  He  touched  her  shoulder  with 
his  lips.  "Then  don't  you — please — be  a  goose !  Tell  me — 
quick !" 

"And  if  I  can't  tell  you,  Dick?  If — if  it's  just  an  in- 
stinct that  says,  Wait  ?  We've  been  too  headlong  as  it  is.  I 
can't — I  daren't — go  on  at  this  pace."  She  was  almost 
tearful.  "I  must  have  a  little  breathing-space  indeed.  I 
came  here  for  peace  and  quietness,  as  you  know." 


172  The  Obstacle  Race 

He  broke  into  a  sudden  laugh.  "So  you  did,  dear.  You 
were  playing  hide-and-seek  with  yourself,  weren't  you? 
I'll  bet  you  never  expected  to  find  the  other  half  of  your- 
self in  this  remote  corner,  did  you?  Well,  never  mind! 
Don't  cry  sweetheart — anyhow  till  you've  got  a  decent  ex- 
cuse. I  don't  want  to  rush  you  into  anything  against  your 
will.  Taken  properly,  I'm  the  meekest  fellow  in  creation. 
But  we  must  have  things  on  a  sensible  footing.  You  see 
that  don't  you?'' 

"If  we  could  be  just  friends,"  she  said. 

"Well,  I'm  quite  willing  to  be  friends."  He  laughed 
into  her  eyes.  "Why  so  distressful?  Don't  you  like  the 
prospect  ?" 

She  drew  his  hand  down  into  her  lap  and  held  it  be- 
tween her  own,  looking  gravely  down  at  it.  "Dick!"  she 
said. 

His  smile  passed.  "Well,  dear?  What  is  it?  You're 
not  going  to  be  afraid  of  me?" 

She  did  not  answer  him.  "I  want  you  to  leave  me  free 
a  little  longer,"  she  said. 

"But  you  are  not  free  now,"  he  said. 

She  threw  him  a  brief,  half-startled  glance.  "I  don't 
mean  that,"  she  said  rather  haltingly.  "I  mean  I  want  you — 
not  to  ask  any  promise  of  me — not  to  insist  upon  any  bond 
between  us — not  to — not  to — expect  a  formal  engagement — 
until, — well,  until — " 

"Until  you  are  ready  to  marry  me,"  he  suggested  quietly. 
A  quick  tremor  went  through  her.  "That  won't  be  for  a  long 
time,"  she  said. 

"How  long?"  he  said. 

"I  don't  know.  Dick.  I  haven't  the  least  idea.  I  had  almost 
made  up  my  mind  never  to  marry  at  all." 

"Really?"  he  said.     "Do  you  know,  so  had  I.     But  I 


The  Honours  of  War  173 

changed  it  the  moment  I  met  you.  When  did  you  change 
yours  ?" 

She  laughed,  but  without  much  mirth.  "I'm  not  sure 
that—" 

"No,  don't  you  say  that  to  me!"  he  interrupted.  "It's 
not  cricket.  You  are — quite  sure,  though  you  rather  wish 
you  weren't.  Isn't  that  the  position  ?  Honestly  now !" 

"Honestly,"  she  said,  "I  can't  be  engaged  to  you  yet." 

"All  right,"  he  said  unexpectedly.  "You  needn't  call  it 
that  if  you  don't  want  to.  Facts  are  facts.  We  may  not  be 
engaged,  but  we  are — permanently — attached.  We'll  leave 
it  at  that." 

Again  swiftly  she  glanced  towards  him.  "No,  but, 
Dick—" 

"Yes,  but,  Juliet — "  His  hand  moved  suddenly,  imprison- 
ing both  of  hers.  "You  can't  get  away,"  he  said,  speaking 
very  rapidly,  "any  more  than  I  can.  If  you  put  the  whole 
world  between  us,  we  shall  still  belong  to  each  other.  That 
is  irrevocable.  It  isn't  your  doing,  and  it  isn't  mine.  It's  a 
Power  above  and  beyond  us  both.  We  can't  help  ourselves." 

He  spoke  with  fierce  earnestness,  a  depth  of  concentration, 
that  gripped  her  just  as  his  music  had  gripped  her  the  night 
before.  She  sat  motionless,  bound  by  the  same  spell  that 
had  bound  her  then.  She  did  not  want  to  meet  his  eyes, 
but  they  drew  irresistibly.  In  the  end  she  did  so. 

For  a  space  not  reckoned  by  time  she  surrendered  herself 
to  a  mastery  that  would  not  be  denied.  She  met  the  kindling 
flame  of  his  worship,  and  was  strangely  awed  and  humbled 
thereby.  She  knew  now  beyond  all  question  that  this  man 
was  not  as  most  men.  He  came  to  her  with  the  first,  un- 
tainted offering  of  his  love.  No  other  woman  had  been 
before  her  in  that  inner  sanctuary  which  he  now  flung  wide 
for  her  to  enter.  There  was  a  purity,  a  primitive  simplicity, 


174  The  Obstacle  Race 

about  his  passion  which  made  her  realize  that  very  clearly. 
He  was  no  boy.  He  had  lived  a  life  of  hard  self -discipline 
and  had  put  his  youth  behind  him  long  since.  But  he 
brought  all  the  intensity  of  a  boy's  adoration  to  back  his 
manhood's  strength  of  purpose,  and  before  it  she  was  im- 
potent and  half-afraid.  The  men  of  her  world  had  all  been 
of  a  totally  different  mould.  She  was  accustomed  to  cynicism 
and  the  half-mocking  homage  of  jaded  experience.  But  this 
was  new,  this  was  wonderful — a  force  that  burned  and 
dazzled  her,  yet  which  attracted  her  irresistibly  none  the 
less,  thrilling  her  with  a  rapture  that  had  never  before  en- 
tered her  life.  Whatever  the  risk,  whatever  the  penalty, 
she  was  bound  to  go  forward  now. 

She  spoke  at  last,  her  eyes  still  held  by  his.  "I  think  you 
are  right.  We  can't  help  it.  But  oh,  Dick,  remember  that 
— remember  that — if  ever  there  should  come  a  time  when 
you  wish  you  had  done — otherwise!" 

"If  ever  I  do  what?"  he  said.  "Do  you  mind  saying  that 
again  ?" 

She  shook  her  head.  "But  I'm  not  laughing,  Dick.  You've 
carried  me  out  of  my  depth,  and — I'm  not  a  very  good 
swimmer." 

"All  right,  darling,"  he  said.  "Lean  on  me!  I'll  hold 
you  up." 

She  clasped  his  hand  tightly.  "You  will  be  patient?" 
she  said. 

He  smiled  into  her  anxious  face.  "As  patient  as  patient" 
he  said.  "That,  I  take  it,  means  I'm  not  to  tell  anybody, 
does  it?" 

She  bent  her  head.    "Yes,  Dick." 

"All  right,"  he  said.  "I  won't  tell  a  soul  without  your 
•consent.  But — "  he  leaned  nearer  to  her,  speaking  almost 
under  his  breath — "when  I  am  alone  with  you,  Juliet — I 


The  Honours  of  War  175 

shall  take  you  in  my  arms — and  kiss  you — as  I  have  done  to- 
day." 

Again  a  swift  tremor  went  through  her.  She  looked  at 
him  no  longer.  "Oh,  but  not — not  without  my  leave,"  she 
said. 

"You  will  give  me  leave,"  he  said. 

She  was  silent  for  a  space.  He  was  drawing  her  two  hands 
to  him,  and  she  tried  to  resist  him.  But  in  the  end  he 
had  his  way,  and  she  yielded  with  a  little  laugh  that  sounded 
oddly  passionate. 

"I  believe  you  could  make  me  give  you  anything,"  she 
said. 

"But  you  can't  give  me  what  is  mine  already,"  he  made 
quiet  answer,  as  he  pressed  the  two  trembling  hands  against 
his  heart.  "That  is  understood,  isn't  it?  And  when  you  are 
tired  of  working  for  your  living,  you  will  come  to  me  and 
let  me  work  for  you." 

"Perhaps,"  she  said,  with  her  head  bent. 

"Only  perhaps?"  he  said. 

His  voice  was  deeply  tender.  He  was  trying  to  look  into 
the  veiled  eyes. 

"Only  perhaps?"  he  said  again. 

She  made  a  little  movement  as  if  she  would  free  her- 
self, but  checked  it  on  the  instant.  Then  very  slowly  she 
lifted  her  face  to  his,  but  she  did  not  meet  his  look.  Her 
eyes  were  closed. 

"Some  day,"  she  said  with  quivering  lips, — "some  day — 
I  will." 

He  took  her  face  between  his  hands,  and  held  it  so  as 
if  he  waited  for  something.  Then,  after  a  moment,  "Some 
day — wife  of  my  heart !"  he  said  very  softly,  and  kissed  the 
eyes  that  would  not  meet  his  own. 


PART  III 

CHAPTER  I 

BIRDS  OF  A  FEATHER 

THE  annual  flower-show  at  Fairharbour  was  one  of  the 
chief  events  of  the  district,  and  entailed  such  a  gathering 
of  the  County  as  Vera  Fielding  would  not  for  worlds  have 
missed.  It  also  entailed  the  donning  of  beautiful  garments 
which  was  an  even  greater  attraction  than  the  first. 

She  had  not  been  well  during  the  sultry  weather  that  had 
prevailed  throughout  the  early  part  of  June,  and  Fielding 
had  been  considering  the  advisability  of  taking  her  away 
for  a  change.  But  though  her  energy  for  many  of  the 
amusements  which  she  usually  followed  with  zest  had  waned 
with  the  lassitude  that  hot  weather  had  brought  upon  her, 
she  had  set  her  heart  upon  attending  the  flower-show,  and, 
in  obedience  to  the  new  policy  which  Juliet  by  every  means 
in  her  power  persuaded  him  to  pursue,  the  squire  had  some- 
what impatiently  yielded  the  point.  The  show  was  to  take 
place  in  the  grounds  of  Burchester  Park.  It  was  an  im- 
mense affair,  and  everyone  of  any  importance  was  sure  to 
attend. 

Juliet  herself  would  gladly  have  stayed  away,  but  Mrs. 
Fielding,  partly  as  a  natural  consequence  of  her  poor  health 
and  chiefly  from  a  selfish  desire  to  feel  herself  an  object 
of  solicitude,  would  not  hear  of  leaving  her  behind.  As 

176 


Birds  of  a  Feather  177 

Dick  had  predicted,  she  had  come  to  lean  upon  Juliet,  and 
her *dependence  became  every  day  more  pronounced.  At 
times  she  was  even  childishly  exacting,  and  though  Juliet 
still  maintained  her  right  to  direct  her  own  movements,  she 
found  her  liberty  considerably  curtailed. 

If  she  went  down  to  the  shore  with  Robin  she  usually 
met  with  a  querulous,  and  sometimes  tearful,  reception  on 
her  return,  and  though  she  steadily  refused  to  admit  that 
there  was  any  reason  on  Vera's  part  for  assuming  this  at- 
titude, it  influenced  her  none  the  less.  Moreover,  Vera 
could  be  genuinely  pathetic  upon  occasion,  and  there  was  no 
disputing  the  fact  that  she  stood  in  need  of  care — such  care 
as  only  a  woman  could  give. 

"I  don't  want  a  nurse,"  she  would  say  plaintively.  "I  only 
want  companionship  and  sympathy.  Motoring  is  my  only 
consolation,  and  I  can't  go  motoring  alone." 

And  then  the  squire  would  draw  her  aside  and  beg  her  to 
bear  with  Vera's  whims  as  far  as  possible  since  loneliness 
depressed  her  and  she  was  the  only  person  he  knew  whose 
company  did  not  either  tire  her  out  or  irritate  her  beyond 
endurance.  It  was  not  an  easy  position,  but  Juliet  filled  it 
to  the  best  of  her  ability  and  with  no  small  self-sacrifice. 

Yet  in  a  sense  it  made  her  life  the  simpler,  for  she  was 
still  at  that  difficult  stage  when  it  is  easier  to  stand  still  than 
to  go  forward.  She  saw  Green  when  he  came  to  the  house, 
but  they  had  not  been  alone  together  since  the  morning  on 
the  shore  when  her  love  had  betrayed  her.  She  had  a  feeling 
that  he  was  biding  his  time.  He  had  promised  to  be  patient, 
and  she  knew  he  would  keep  his  promise.  Also,  his  time, 
like  hers,  was  very  fully  occupied.  Till  the  holidays  came 
he  would  not  have  much  liberty,  and  in  her  secret  soul 
Juliet  was  thankful  that  this  was  so.  For  the  present  it 
was  enough  for  her  to  hold  this  new  joy  close,  close  to  her 


178  The  Obstacle  Race 

heart,  to  gaze  upon  it  only  in  solitude, — a  gift  most  pre- 
cious upon  which  no  other  eyes  might  look.  It  was  erlbugh 
for  her  to  feel  the  tight  grasp  of  his  hand  when  they  met, 
to  catch  for  an  instant  the  quick  gleam  of  understanding  in 
his  glance,  the  sudden  flash  of  that  smile  which  was  for  her 
alone.  These  things  thrilled  her  with  a  gladness  so  strangely 
sweet  that  there  were  times  when  she  marvelled  at  herself, 
and  sometimes,  trembling,  wondered  if  it  could  possibly  last. 
For  nought  in  life  had  ever  before  shone  so  golden  as  this 
perfect  dream.  The  very  atmosphere  she  breathed  was 
subtly  charged  with  its  essence.  She  was  absurdly,  superbly 
happy. 

"I  believe  this  place  suits  you,"  the  squire  said  to  her 
once.  "You  look  years  younger  than  when  you  came." 

She  received  the  compliment  with  her  low,  soft  laugh. 
"I  am — years  younger,"  she  said. 

He  gave  her  a  sharp  look.  "You  are  happy  here!  Not 
sorry  you  came?" 

"Oh,  not  in  the  least  sorry,"  said  Juliet. 

He  nodded.  "That's  all  right.  You've  done  Vera  a  lot  of 
good.  She's  getting  almost  docile.  But  as  soon  as  this  flower- 
show  business  is  over,  I  want  you  to  use  all  your  influence  to 
get  her  away.  We'll  go  North  and  see  if  we  can  get  a  little 
strength  into  her."  Again  he  looked  at  her  shrewdly.  "You 
won't  mind  coming  too?" 

"But  of  course  not,"  said  Juliet.    "I  shall  love  it." 

He  was  on  his  way  out  of  the  room,  but  a  sudden  thought 
Seemed  to  strike  him  and  he  lingered.  "Shall  I  make  Green 
come  to  the  flower-show  with  us?"  he  asked. 

"I  shouldn't,"  said  Juliet  quietly.  "He  probably  wouldn't 
have  time,  and  certainly  Mrs.  Fielding  wouldn't  want 
him." 

He  frowned.    "Would  you  like  him?"  he  asked  abruptly. 


Birds  of  a  Feather  179 

"I  ?"  She  met  his  look  with  a  baffling  smile.  "Oh,  don't 
ask  him  on  my  account !  I  am  quite  happy  without  a  cavalier 
in  attendance." 

And  Fielding  went  out,  looking  dissatisfied.  But  when  the 
day  arrived  and  they  were  on  the  point  of  departure  he  sur- 
prised them  both  by  the  sudden  announcement  that  Green 
was  to  be  picked  up  at  the  gates.  It  was  a  Saturday  after- 
noon, and  for  once  he  was  at  liberty. 

"Oh,  really,  Edward!"  Mrs.  Fielding  protested.  "Now 
you've  spoilt  everything!" 

"On  the  contrary,"  smiled  the  squire.  "I  have  merely 
completed  the  party." 

"I'm  sure  Miss  Moore  doesn't  want  him!"  she  declared 
petulantly. 

"I  am  afraid  Miss  Moore  will  have  to  put  up  with  him 
nevertheless,"  said  Fielding,  unperturbed.  "For  he  is  com- 
ing." 

"You  always  do  your  best  to  spoil  my  pleasure,"  Vera 
flung  at  him. 

Juliet  saw  the  squire's  mouth  take  an  ominous  down- 
ward curve,  but  to  her  relief  he  kept  his  temper  in  check. 
He  was  driving  the  car  himself  which  was  an  open  one. 
Somewhat  grimly  he  turned  to  Juliet.  "I  hope  you  have  no 
objection  to  sharing  the  back-seat  with  Mr.  Green." 

She  felt  her  pulses  give  a  swift  leap  at  the  question,  but 
with  a  hasty  effort  she  kept  down  her  rising  colour.  "Of 
course  not !"  she  said. 

He  gave  her  a  brief  smile  of  approval.  "Then  you  will 
sit  in  front  with  me,  Vera.  That  is  settled.  Let  us  have 
no  more  argument !" 

"It's  too  bad!"  Vera  declared  stormily  on  the  verge  of 
indignant  tears. 

"My  dear,"  he  said,  "don't  be  silly !    Has  it  never  occurred 


i8o  The  Obstacle  Race 

to  you  that  I  may  like  to  have  my  wife  to  myself  occasion- 
ally?" 

It  evidently  had  not,  for  Vera  gave  him  a  look  of  sheer 
amazement  and  yielded  the  point  as  if  she  had  no  breath 
left  for  further  discussion. 

He  settled  her  in  her  place,  and  tucked  the  rug  around 
her  with  more  than  usual  care.  As  he  finished,  she  leaned 
forward  and  touched  his  shoulder  with  a  slightly  uncertain 
smile. 

He  glanced  up.    "All  right?" 

"Quite,  thank  you,"  she  said. 

And  Juliet  in  the  back-seat  drew  a  breath  of  relief.  The 
squire  was  becoming  quite  an  adept  at  the  game. 

They  shot  down  the  avenue  at  a  speed  that  brought  them 
very  rapidly  in  sight  of  the  gates.  A  figure  was  waiting 
there,  and  again  Juliet  was  conscious  of  the  hard  beating  of 
her  heart.  Then  she  knew  that  the  car  was  stopping,  and 
looked  forth  with  an  impersonal  smile  of  welcome. 

He  came  forward,  greeted  the  squire  and  Mrs.  Fielding, 
and  in  a  moment  was  getting  in  beside  her. 

"Good  afternoon,  Miss  Moore !"  he  said. 

She  gave  him  her  hand  and  felt  his  fingers  close  with  a 
spring-like  strength  upon  it,  while  his  eyes  laughed  into 
hers.  Then  the  car  was  in  motion  again,  and  he  dropped 
into  the  seat. 

"By  Jove,  this  is  a  treat !"  he  said.  "I  had  the  greatest 
difficulty  in  the  world  to  get  away,  made  Ashcott  take  my 
place.  It  isn't  a  very  important  match,  and  he's  a  better 
bowler  than  I  am  anyway." 

"Do  you  want  any  rug?"  she  said,  still  battling  to  keep 
back  the  overwhelming  flush  of  gladness  from  her  face. 

He  accepted  her  offer  at  once,  and  in  a  moment  his  hand 
had  caught  and  imprisoned  hers  beneath  its  shelter. 


Birds  of  a  Feather  181 

She  made  a  sharp  movement  to  free  herself,  and  the 
blush  she  had  so  valiantly  resisted  flamed  over  face  and 
neck  as  she  felt  his  hold  tighten  as  sharply,  and  heard  him 
laugh  at  her  impotence.  But  he  went  on  talking  as  though 
nothing  had  happened,  considerately  covering  her  agitation, 
and  to  her  relief  neither  Fielding  nor  his  wife  looked  round 
till  it  had  subsided. 

It  was  barely  half-an-hour's  run  to  Burchester  Park  which 
was  thrown  open  to  the  public  for  the  great  occasion.  The 
Castle  also  was  open  on  that  day,  and  visitors  thronged 
thither  from  every  quarter. 

A  long  procession  of  conveyances  stood  outside  the  great 
iron  gates  of  the  Park,  but  the  squire,  owing  to  an  acquaint- 
anceship with  Lord  Saltash's  bailiff,  held  a  permit  that  ena- 
bled him  to  drive  in.  They  went  up  the  long  avenue  of  firs 
that  led  to  the  great  stone  building,  but  ere  they  reached  it  the 
strains  of  a  band  told  them  that  the  flower-show  was  taking 
place  in  an  open  space  on  their  right  close  to  the  entrance  to 
the  terraced  gardens  which  occupied  the  southern  slope  in 
front  of  the  house. 

Fielding  ran  the  car  into  a  deep  patch  of  shade  beside 
the  road,  and  stopped.  "We  had  better  get  out  here,"  he 
said. 

Juliet's  hand  slipped  free.  Dick  threw  her  a  smile  and 
jumped  out. 

"Will  the  car  be  all  right?"  he  said,  as  he  turned  to  help 
her  down. 

"Oh,  right  enough,"  the  squire  said.  "There  is  no  traf- 
fic along  here." 

"I  am  hoping  to  go  into  the  house,"  said  Vera.  "But  I 
suppose  it  will  be  crammed  with  people." 

"We'll  do  the  flower-show  first  anyhow,"  said  Fielding. 

He  led  the  way  with  her,  and  it  seemed  quite  natural  to 


182  The  Obstacle  Race 

Juliet  that  Green  should  fall  in  beside  her.  It  was  a  cloud- 
less day,  and  she  had  an  almost  childish  feeling  of  delight  in 
its  splendour.  She  was  determined  to  enjoy  herself  to  the 
utmost. 

They  entered  the  first  sweltering  tent  and  in  the  throng 
she  felt  again  the  touch  of  Dick's  hand  at  he  came  behind. 
"We  mustn't  lose  each  other,"  he  said,  with  a  laugh. 

The  midsummer  madness  was  upon  her,  and,  without 
looking  at  him  she  squeezed  the  fingers  that  gripped  her 
arm. 

In  a  moment  his  voice  spoke  in  her  ear.  "Look  here! 
Let's  get  away!  Let's  get  lost!  It's  the  easiest  thing  in 
the  world.  We  can't  all  hang  together  in  this  crowd." 

This  was  quite  evident.  The  great  marquee  was  crammed 
with  people,  and  already  Fielding  was  piloting  his  wife  to 
the  opening  at  the  other  end. 

"We  must  just  look  round,"  murmured  Juliet,  "for 
decency's  sake." 

"All  right,  my  dear,  look!"  he  said.  "And  when  you've 
quite  finished  we'll  go  out  by  the  way  we  came  and  explore 
the  gardens." 

She  threw  him  a  glance  that  expressed  acquiescence  and 
a  certain  mead  of  amused  appreciation.  For  somehow  Dick 
Green  in  his  blue  serge  and  straw  hat  managed  to  look 
smarter  if  less  immaculate  than  any  of  the  white-waist- 
coated  band  of  local  magnates  around  them.  So— for 
decency's  sake — she  prowled  round  the  tent  with  Dick  at 
her  shoulder,  admiring  everything  she  saw  and  forgetting 
as  soon  as  she  had  admired.  She  told  herself  that  it  was  a 
day  of  such  supreme  happiness  as  could  not  come  twice  in 
any  lifetime,  and  because  of  it  she  lingered,  refusing  to 
hasten  the  moment  for  which  Dick  had  made  provision. 

"Haven't  you  had  enough  of  it?"  he  said  at  last. 


Birds  of  a  Feather  183 

And  she  answered  him  with  a  quivering  laugh.  "No,  not 
nearly.  I'm  spinning  out  every  single  second." 

"Ah,  but  they  won't  wait,"  he  said.  "Come!  I  think 
we're  safely  lost  now.  Let  us  go !" 

She  turned  obediently  from  a  glorious  spread  of  glox- 
inias, and  he  made  a  way  for  her  through  the  buzzing  crowd 
to  the  entrance.  When  Dick  spoke  with  the  voice  of  au- 
thority, it  was  her  pleasure  to  submit. 

She  felt  her  pulses  tingle  as  she  followed  him,  to  be  alone 
with  him  again,  to  feel  herself  encompassed  by  the  fiery 
magic  of  his  love,  to  yield  throbbing  surrender  to  the  mastery 
that  would  not  be  denied.  Yet  when  he  turned  to  her  outside 
in  the  hot  sunshine  with  the  blaring  band  close  at  hand  she 
almost  shrank  away,  she  almost  voiced  a  pretext  for  con- 
tinuing their  unprofitable  wandering  through  the  stifling 
tents.  For,  strangely,  though  he  smiled  at  her,  there  was 
about  him  in  that  moment  a  quality  that  went  near  to  scaring 
her.  Something  untamed,  something  indomitable,  looked 
out  at  her  from  his  glittering  eyes.  It  was  almost  like  a 
challenge,  as  if  he  dared  her  to  dispute  his  right. 

"That's  better,"  he  said,  drawing  a  deep  breath.  "Now  we 
can  get  away." 

"We  shan't  get  away  from  the  people,"  she  said. 

He  threw  a  rapid  glance  around.  "Yes,  we  shall — with 
any  luck.  Come  along !  I  know  the  way.  There's  a  little 
landing-stage  place  down  by  the  lake.  We'll  go  there.  There 
may  even  be  a  boat  handy — if  the  gods  are  kind." 

The  gods  were  kind.  They  skirted  the  terraced  gardens, 
which  were  not  open  to  the  public,  and  plunged  down  a  wind- 
ing walk  through  a  shrubbery  that  led  somewhat  sharply 
downwards,  away  from  the  noise  and  the  crush  into  cool 
green  depths  of  woodland  through  which  at  last  there  shone 
up  at  them  the  gleam  of  water. 


1 84  The  Obstacle  Race 

Juliet  was  panting  when  at  length  her  guide  paused.  "My 
darling,  what  a  shame!"  he  said.  "But  hang  on  to  me! 
There  are  some  steps  round  the  corner,  and  they  may  be 
slippery.  We'll  soon  be  down  now,  and  there's  not  a  soul 
anywhere.  Look !  There's  a  fairy  barque  waiting  for  us !" 

She  caught  sight  of  a  white  skiff,  lying  in  the  water  close 
to  the  bank.  As  he  had  predicted,  the  final  descent  was  a 
decided  scramble,  but  he  held  her  up  until  the  mossy  bank 
was  reached ;  and  would  have  held  her  longer,  but  with  a  lit- 
tle breathless  laugh  she  released  herself. 

"My  shoes  are  ruined,"  she  remarked. 

As  they  were  of  light  grey  suede,  and  the  precipitous  path 
they  had  travelled  was  a  mixture  of  clay  and  limestone  the 
ruin  was  palpable  and  very  thorough.  Dick  surveyed  them 
with  compunction. 

"I  say,  they're  wet  through !  You  must  take  them  off  at 
once.  Get  into  the  punt!" 

"No,  no!"  She  laughed  again  with  more  assurance.  "I 
am  not  going  to  take  them  off.  We  couldn't  dry  them  if 
I  did,  and  I  should  never  get  them  on  again.  Do  you  think 
we  ought  to  get  into  the  punt?  Suppose  the  owner  came 
along?" 

"The  owner  ?  Lord  Saltash,  do  you  mean  ?"  He  scoffed 
at  the  idea.  "Do  you  really  imagine  he  would  come  within 
a  hundred  leagues  of  the  place  on  such  a  day  as  this.  No, 
he  is  probably  many  salt  miles  away  in  that  ocean-going 
yacht  of  his.  Lucky  dog!" 

"Oh,  do  you  envy  him?"  she  said. 

He  gave  her  a  shrewd  glance.  "Not  in  the  least.  He  is 
welcome  to  his  yacht — and  his  Lady  Jo — and  all  that  is  his." 

"Dick!"  She  made  a  swift  gesture  of  repudiation. 
"Please  don't  repeat  that — scandal — again !" 

He  raised  his  brows  with  a  faintly  ironical  smile.     "Are 


Birds  of  a  Feather  185 

you  still  giving  her  the  benefit  of  the  doubt?"  he  said.     "I 
imagine  no  one  else  does." 

The  colour  went  out  of  her  face.  She  stood  quite  motion- 
less, looking  not  at  him  but  at  a  whirl  of  dancing  gnats  on 
the  gold-flecked  water  beyond  him. 

"She  went  to  Paris,"  she  said,  in  the  tone  of  one  asserting 
a  fact  that  no  one  could  dispute. 

"So  did  he,*'  said  Green.  "The  yacht  went  round  to 
Bordeaux  to  pick  him  up  afterwards.  •  I  understand  that 
he  was  not  alone." 

She  turned  on  him  in  sudden  anger.  "Why  do  you  re- 
peat this  horrible  gossip?  Where  do  you  hear  it?" 

He  held  out  his  hand  to  her.  "Juliet,  I  repeat  it,  be- 
cause I  want  you  to  know — you  have  got  to  know — that 
she  is  unworthy  of  your  friendship,  and — you  shall  never 
touch  pitch  with  my  consent.  I  have  heard  it  from  various 
sources, — from  Ashcott,  from  the  agent  here,  Bishop,  and 
others.  My  dear,  you  have  always  known  her  for  a  heart- 
less flirt.  You  broke  with  her  because  she  jilted  the  man 
she  was  about  to  marry.  Now  that  she  has  gone  to  another 
man,  surely  you  have  done  with  her !" 

He  spoke  without  anger,  but  with  a  force  and  authority 
that  carried  far  more  weight.  Juliet's  indignation  passed. 
But  she  did  not  touch  the  outstretched  hand,  and  in  a 
moment  he  bent  and  took  hers. 

"Now  I've  made  you  furious,"  he  said. 
She  looked  at  him  somewhat  piteously,  assaying  a  smile 
with  the  lips  that  trembled.  "No,  I  am  not  furious.  Only 
— when  you  talk  like  that  you  make  me — rather  uneasy. 
You  see,  Lady  Jo  and  I  have  always  been — birds  of  a 
feather." 

"Don't,"  he  said,  and  suddenly  gripped  her  hand  so 
that  she  gasped  with  pain.  "Oh,  did  I  hurt  you,  sweetheart? 


1 86  The  Obstacle  Race 

Forgive  me.  But  I  can't  have  you  talk  like  that — couple 
yourself  with  that  woman  whose  main  amusement  for 
years  has  been  to  break  as  many  hearts  as  she  could  cap- 
ture. Forget  her,  darling!  Promise  me  you  will!  Come! 
We're  not  going  to  let  her  spoil  this  perfect  day." 

He  was  drawing  her  to  him,  but  she  sought  to  resist 
him,  and  even  when  his  arms  wer;e  close  about  her  she 
did  not  wholly  yield.  He  held  her  to  him,  but  he  did  not 
press  for  a  full  surrender. 

And — perhaps  because  of  his  forbearance — she  presently 
lifted  her  face  to  his  and  clung  to  him  with  all  her  quiver- 
ing strength.  "Just  for  to-day,  Dick !"  she  whispered  trem- 
ulously. "Just  for  to-day!" 

Their  lips  met  upon  the  words.  And,  "For  ever  and  ever !" 
he  made  passionate  answer,  as  he  held  her  to  his  heart. 


CHAPTER  II 

SALTASH 

THE  sunshine  was  no  less  bright  or  the  day  less  full  of 
summer  warmth  when  they  floated  out  upon  the  lake  a 
little  later.  But  Juliet's  mood  had  changed.  She  leaned 
back  on  Dick's  coat  in  the  stern  of  the  boat,  drifting  her 
fingers  through  the  rippling  water  with  a  thoughtful  face. 
Once  or  twice  she  only  nodded  when  Dick  spoke  to  her,  and 
he,  bending  to  his  sculls,  soon  fell  silent,  content  to  watch 
her  while  the  golden  minutes  passed. 

The  lake  was  long  and  narrow,  surrounded  by  wood- 
land trees  with  coloured  water-lilies  floating  here  and  there 
upon  its  surface — a  fairy  spot,  mysterious,  green  as 
emerald.  The  music  of  the  band  sounded  distant  here, 
almost  like  the  echoes  of  another  world.  They  reached 
the  middle  of  the  lake,  and  Dick  suffered  his  sculls  to  rest 
upon  the  water,  sending  feathery  splashes  from  their  tips 
that  spread  in  widening  circles  all  around  them. 

As  if  in  answer  to  an  unspoken  word,  Juliet's  eyes  came 
up  to  his.  She  faintly  smiled.  "Have  you  brought  that 
woodland  pipe  of  yours?"  she  asked. 

He  smiled  back  at  her.  "No,  I  am  keeping  that  for  an- 
other occasion." 

She  lifted  her  straight  brows  interrogatively,  without 
speaking. 

He  answered  her  still  smiling,  but  with  that  in  his  voice 

187 


i88  The  Obstacle  Race 

that  brought  the  warm  colour  to  her  face.  "Foi  the  day 
when  we  go  away,  together  sweetheart,  and  don't  come 
back." 

Her  eyes  sank  before  his,  but  in  a  moment  or  two  she 
lifted  them  again,  meeting  his  look  with  something  oi  an 
effort.  "I  wonder,  Dick,"  she  said  slowly,  "I  wonder  if 
we  ever  shall." 

He  leaned  towards  her.  "Are  you  daring  me  to  run 
away  with  you?" 

She  shook  her  head.  "I  should  probably  turn  into  some- 
thing very  hideous  if  you  did,  and  that  would  be — rather 
terrible  for  both  of  us." 

"That's  a  parable,  is  it?"  He  was  still  looking  at  her 
keenly,  earnestly. 

She  made  a  little  gesture  of  remonstrance,  as  if  his  re- 
gard were  too  much  for  her.  "You  can  take  it  as  you 
please.  But  as  I  have  no  intention  of  running  away  with 
you,  perhaps  it  is  beside  the  point." 

He  laughed  with  a  hint  of  mastery.  "Our  intentions 
on  that  subject  may  not  be  the  same.  I'll  back  mine  against 
yours  any  day." 

She  smiled  at  his  words  though  her  colour  mounted 
higher.  After  a  moment  she  sat  up,  and  laid  a  hand  upon  his 
knee.  "Dick,  you're  getting  too  managing — much.  I  sup- 
pose it's  the  schoolmaster  part  of  you.  I  daresay  you 
find  it  gets  you  the  upper  hand  with  a  good  many,  but — 
it  won't  with  me." 

His  hand  was  on  hers  in  an  instant,  she  thrilled  to  the 
electricity  of  his  touch.  "No — no!"  he  said.  "That's  just 
the  soul  of  me,  darling,  leaping  all  the  obstacles  to  reach 
and  hold  you.  You're  not  going  to  tell  me  you  have  no 
use  for  that?'" 

"But  you  promised  to  be  patient,"  she  said. 


Saltash  189 

"Well,  I  will  be.  I  am.  Don't  look  so  serious!  What 
have  I  done?" 

His  eyes  challenged  her  to  laughter,  and  she  laughed, 
though  somewhat  uncertainly.  "Nothing — yet,  Dick.  But 
— I  don't  feel  at  all  sure  of  you  to-day.  You  make  me 
think  of  a  faun  of  the  woods.  I  haven't  the  least  idea 
what  you  will  do  next." 

"What  a  mercy  I've  got  you  safe  in  the  boat!"  he  said. 
"I  didn't  know  you  were  so  shy.  What  shall  I  do  to  re- 
assure you?" 

His  hand  moved  up  her  wrist  with  the  words,  softly 
pushing  up  the  lacy  sleeve,  till  it  found  the  bend  of  the 
elbow,  when  he  stooped  and  kissed  the  delicate  blue  veins, 
closely  with  lips  that  lingered. 

Then,  his  head  still  bent  low,  very  tenderly  he  spoke. 
"Don't  be  afraid  of  my  love,  sweetheart !  Let  it  be  your — 
defence !" 

She  was  sitting  very  still  in  his  hold  save  that  every 
fibre  of  her  throbbed  at  the  touch  of  his  lips.  But  in  a 
moment  she  moved,  touched  his  shoulder,  his  neck,  with 
fingers  that  trembled,  finally  smoothed  the  close  black 
hair. 

"Why  did  you  make  me  love  you  ?"  she  said,  and  uttered 
a  sharp  sigh  that  caught  her  unawares. 

He  laughed  as  he  raised  his  head.  "Poor  darling! 
You  didn't  want  to,  did  you?  Hard  lines!  I  believe  it's 
upset  all  your  plans  for  the  future." 

"It  has,"  she  said.    "At  least— it  threatens  to !" 

"What  a  shame !"  He  spoke  commiseratingly.  "And  what 
were  your  plans — if  it  isn't  impertinent  of  me  to  ask?" 

She  smiled  faintly.  "Well,  marriage  certainly  wasn't 
one  of  them.  And  I'm  not  sure  that  it  is  now.  I  feel  like 
the  girl  in  Marionettes — Cynthia  Paramount — who  said 


190  The  Obstacle  Race 

she  didn't  think  any  women  ought  to  marry  until  she  had 
been  engaged  at  least  six  times." 

"That  little  beast!"  Dick  sat  up  suddenly  and  returned 
to  his  sculls.  "Juliet,  why  did  you  read  that  book?  I 
told  you  not  to." 

Her  smile  deepened  though  her  eyes  were  grave.  She 
clasped  her  fingers  about  her  knees.  "My  dear  Dick,  that's 
why.  It  didn't  hurt  me  like  The  Valley  of  Dry  Bones.  In 
fact  I  was  feeling  so  nice  and  superior  when  I  read  it  that 
I  rather  enjoyed  it." 

Dick  sent  the  boat  through  the  water  with  a  long  stroke. 
His  face  was  stern.  After  a  moment  Juliet  looked  at  him. 
"Are  you  cross  with  me  because  I  read  it,  Dick?" 

His  face  softened  instantly.  "With  you!  What  an 
idea!" 

"With  the  man  who  wrote  it  then?"  she  suggested.  "He 
exasperates  me  intensely.  He  has  such  a  maddeningly  clear 
vision,  and  he  is  so  inevitably  right." 

"And  yet  you  persist  in  reading  him !"  Dick's  voice  had  a 
faintly  mocking  note. 

"And  yet  I  persist  in  reading  him.  You  see,  I  am  a 
woman,  Dick.  I  haven't  your  lordly  faculty  for  ignoring 
the  people  I  most  dislike.  I  detest  Dene  Strange,  but  I 
can't  overlook  him.  No  one  can.  I  think  his  character 
studies  are  quite  marvellous.  That  girl  and  her  endless 
flirtations,  and  then — when  the  real  thing  comes  to  her  at 
last — that  unspeakable  man  of  iron  refusing  to  take  her 
because  she  had  jilted  another  man,  ruining  both  their 
lives  for  the  sake  of  his  own  rigid  code !  He  didn't  deserve 
her  in  any  case.  She  was  too  good  for  him  with  all  her 
faults."  Juliet  paused,  studying  her  lover's  face  atten- 
tively. "I  hope  you're  not  that  sort  of  man,  Dick,"  she  said. 

He  met  her  eyes.    "Why  do  you  say  that?" 


Saltash  191 

"Because  there's  a  high-priestly  expression  about  your 
mouth  that  rather  looks  as  if  you  might  be.  Please  don't 
tell  me  if  you  are  because  it  will  spoil  all  my  pleasure! 
Give  me  a  cigarette  instead  and  let's  enjoy  ourselves!" 

"You'll  find  the  case  in  my  coat  behind,"  he  said.  "But, 
Juliet,  though  I  wouldn't  spoil  your  pleasure  for  the  world, 
I  must  say  one  thing.  If  a  woman  engages  herself  to  a  man, 
I  consider  she  is  bound  in  honour  to  fulfil  her  engagement — 
unless  he  sets  her  free.  If  she  is  an  honourable  woman, 
she  will  never  free  herself  without  his  consent.  I  hold  that 
sort  of  engagement  to  be  a  debt  of  honour — as  sacred  as 
the  marriage  vow  itself." 

"Even  though  she  realizes  that  she  is  going  to  make  a 
mistake?"  said  Juliet,  beginning  to  search  the  coat. 

"Whatever  the  circumstances,"  he  said.  "An  engage- 
ment can  only  be  broken  by  mutual  consent.  Otherwise 
the  very  word  becomes  a  farce.  I  have  no  sympathy  with 
jilts  of  either  sex.  I  think  they  ought  to  be  kicked  out  of 
decent  society." 

Juliet  found  the  cigarettes  and  looked  up  with  a  smile. 
"I  think  you  and  Dene  Strange  ought  to  collaborate,"  she 
said.  "You  would  soon  put  this  naughty  world  to  rights 
between  you.  Now  open  your  mouth  and  shut  your  eyes, 
and  if  you're  very  good  I'll  light  it  for  you!" 

There  was  in  her  tone,  despite  its  playfulness,  a  delicate 
finality  that  told  him  plainly  that  she  had  no  intention  of 
pursuing  the  subject  further,  and,  curiously,  the  man's 
heart  smote  him  for  a  moment.  He  felt  as  if  in  some  fashion 
wholly  inexplicable  he  had  hurt  her. 

"You're  not  vexed  with  me,  sweetheart?"  he  said. 

She  looked  at  him  still  smiling,  but  her  look,  her  smile, 
were  more  of  a  veil  than  a  revelation.  "With  you!  What 
an  idea!"  she  said,  softly  mocking. 


i92  The  Obstacle  Race 

"Ah,  don't!"  he  said.    "I'm  not  like  that,  Juliet!" 

She  held  up  the  cigarette.  "Quite  ready?  Ah,  Dick! 
Don't— don't  upset  the  boat!" 

For  the  sculls  floated  loose  again  in  the  rowlocks.  He 
had  her  by  the  wrists,  the  arms,  the  shoulders.  He  had 
her,  suddenly  and  very  closely,  against  his  heart.  He 
covered  her  face  with  his  kisses,  so  that  she  gasped  and 
gasped  for  breath,  half -laughing,  half -dismayed. 

"Dick,  how — how  disgraceful  of  you!  Dick,  you 
mustn't!  Someone — someone  will  see  us!" 

"Let  them !"  he  said,  grimly  reckless.  "You  brought  it  on 
yourself.  How  dare  you  tell  me  I'm  like  a  high  priest? 
How  dare  you,  Juliet?" 

"I  daren't,"  she  assured  him,  her  hand  against  his 
mouth,  restraining  him.  "I  never  will  again.  You're 
much  more  like  the  great  god  Pan.  There,  now  do  be 
good!  Please  be  good!  I  am  sure  someone  is  watching 
us.  I  can  feel  it  in  my  bones.  You're  flinging  my 
reputation  to  the  little  fishes.  Please,  Dick — darling, — 
please !" 

He  held  the  appealing  hand  and  kissed  it  very  tenderly. 
"I  can't  resist  that,"  he  said.  "So  now  we're  quits,  are 
we  ?  And  no  one  any  the  worse.  Juliet,  you'll  have  to  marry 
me  soon." 

She  drew  away  from  his  arms,  still  panting  a  little.  Her 
face  was  burning.  "Now  we'll  go  back,"  she  said.  "You're 
very  unmanageable  to-day.  I  shall  not  come  out  with  you 
again  for  a  long  time." 

"Yes — yes,  you  will!"  he  urged.  "I  shouldn't  be  so  un- 
manageable if  I  weren't  so — starved." 

She  laughed  rather  shakily.  "You're  absurd  and  extrava- 
gant. Please  row  back  now,  Dick !  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fielding 
will  be  wondering  where  we  are." 


Saltash  193 

"Let  'em  wonder !"  said  Dick. 

Nevertheless,  moved  by  something  in  her  voice  or  face,  he 
turned  the  boat  and  began  to  row  back  to  the  little  landing- 
stage.  Juliet  rescued  the  cigarettes  from  the  floor,  and  pres- 
ently placed  one  between  his  lips  and  lighted  it  for  him.  But 
her  eyes  did  not  meet  his  during  the  process,  and  her  hand 
was  not  wholly  steady.  She  leaned  back  in  the  stern  and 
smoked  her  own  cigarette  afterwards  in  almost  unbroken 
silence. 

"Don't  you  want  a  water-lily  ?"  Dick  said  to  her  once  as 
they  drew  near  a  patch. 

She  shook  her  head.  "No,  don't  disturb  them!  They're 
happier  where  they  are." 

"Impossible!"  he  protested.  "When  they  might  be  with 
you!" 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  his  then,  and  looked  at  him  very 
steadily.  "No,  that  doesn't  follow,  Dick,"  she  said. 

"I  think  it  does,"  he  said.  "Never  mind  if  you  don't 
agree !  Tell  me  when  you  are  coming  to  sing  at  one  of  my 
Saturday  night  concerts  at  High  Shale !" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,  Dick."  She  looked  momentarily  em- 
barrassed. "You  know  we  are  going  away  very  soon,  don't 
you?" 

"Where  to?"  he  said. 

"I  don't  know.  Either  Wales  or  the  North.  Mrs.  Field- 
ing needs  a  change,  and  I " 

"You're  coming  back  ?"  he  said. 

"I  suppose  so — some  time.  Why?"  She  looked  at  him 
questioningly. 

He  leaned  forward,  his  black  eyes  unswervingly  upon  her. 
"Because — if  you  don't — I  shall  come  after  you,"  he  said, 
with  iron  determination. 

She  laughed  a  little.    "Pray  don't  look  so  grim !    I  probably 


194  The  Obstacle  Race 

shall  come  back  all  in  good  time.  I  will  let  you  know  if  I 
don't  anyway." 

"You  promise  ?"  he  said. 

"Of  course  I  promise."  She  flicked  her  cigarette-ash  into 
the  water.  "I  won't  disappear  without  letting  you  know 
first." 

"Without  letting  me  know  where  to  find  you,"  he  said. 

She  glanced  over  his  shoulder  as  if  measuring  the  distance 
between  the  skiff  and  the  landing-stage.  "No,  I  don't  prom- 
ise that.  It  wouldn't  be  fair.  But  you  will  be  able  to  trace 
me  by  Columbus.  He  will  certainly  accompany  the  cat's- 
meat  cart  wherever  it  goes.  Oh,  Dick!  There's  someone 
there — waiting  for  us !" 

He  also  threw  a  look  behind  him.  "Shall  I  put  her  about  ? 
I  don't  see  anyone,  but  if  you  wish  it " 

"No,  no,  I  don't!  Row  straight  in!  There  is  someone 
there,  and  you'll  have  to  apologize.  I  knew  we  were  being 
watched." 

Juliet  sat  upright  with  a  flushed  face. 

Dick  began  to  laugh.  "Dear,  dear !  How  tragic !  Never 
mind,  darling!  I  daresay  it's  no  one  more  important 
than  a  keeper,  and  we  will  see  if  we  can  enlist  his 
sympathy." 

He  pulled  a  few  swift  strokes  and  the  skiff  glided  up  to 
the  little  landing-stage.  He  shipped  the  sculls,  and  held  to 
the  wood  work  with  one  hand. 

"Will  you  get  ashore,  dear,  and  I'll  tie  up.  There's  no  one 
here,  you  see." 

"No  one  that  matters,"  said  a  laughing  voice  above  him, 
and  suddenly  a  man  in  a  white  yachting-suit,  slim,  dark,  with 
a  monkey-like  activity  of  movement,  stepped  out  from  the 
spreading  shadow  of  a  beech. 

"Hullo !"  exclaimed  Dick,  startled. 


Saltash  195 

"Hullo,  sir!  Delighted  to  meet  you.  Madam,  will  you 
take  my  hand  ?  Ah — et  tu,  Juliette !  Delighted  to  meet  you 
also." 

He  was  bowing  with  one  hand  extended,  the  other  on  his 
heart.  Juliet,  still  seated  in  the  stern  of  the  boat,  had  gone 
suddenly  white  to  the  lips. 

She  gasped  a  little,  and  in  a  moment  forced  a  laugh  that 
somehow  sounded  desperate.  "Why,  it  is  Charles  Rex !"  she 
said. 

Dick's  eyes  came  swiftly  to  her.  "Who?  Lord  Saltash, 
isn't  it?  I  thought  so."  His  look  flashed  back  to  the  man 
above  him  with  something  of  a  challenge.  "You  know  this 
lady  then?" 

Two  eyes — one  black,  one  grey — looked  down  into  his, 
anwering  the  challenge  with  gay  inconsequence.  "Sir,  I  have 
that  inestimable  privilege.  Juliette,  will  you  not  accept  my 
hand?" 

Juliet's  hand  came  upwards  a  little  uncertainly,  then,  as 
he  grasped  it,  she  stood  up  in  the  boat.  "This  is  indeed  a 
surprise,"  she  said,  and  again  involuntarily  she  gasped. 
"Rumour  had  it  that  you  were  a  hundred  miles  away  at 
least." 

"Rumour !"  laughed  Lord  Saltash.  "How  oft  hath  rumour 
played  havoc  with  my  name!  Not  an  unpleasant  surprise, 
I  trust?" 

He  handed  her  ashore,  laughing  on  a  note  of  mockery. 
Charles  Burchester,  Lord  Saltash,  said  to  be  of  royal  descent, 
possessed  in  no  small  degree  the  charm  not  untempered  with 
wickedness  of  his  reputed  ancestor.  His  friends  had  dubbed 
him  "the  merry  monarch"  long  since,  but  Juliet  had  found 
a  more  dignified  appellation  for  him  which  those  who  knew 
him  best  had  immediately  adopted.  He  had  become  Charles 
Rex  from  the  day  she  had  first  bestowed  the  title  upon  him. 


196  The  Obstacle  Race 

Somehow,  in  all  his  varying — sometimes  amazing — moods, 
it  suited  him. 

She  stood  with  him  on  the  little  wooden  landing-stage,  her 
hand  still  in  his,  and  the  colour  coming  back  into  her  face. 
"But  of  course  not !"  she  said  in  answer  to  his  light  words, 
laughing  still  a  trifle  breathlessly.  "If  you  will  promise  not 
to  prosecute  us  for  trespassing !" 

"Mais,  Juliette!"  He  bent  over  her  hand.  "You  could  not 
trespass  if  you  tried!"  he  declared  gallantly.  "And  the  cava- 
lier with  you — may  I  not  have  the  honour  of  an  intro- 
duction ?" 

He  knew  how  to  jest  with  grace  in  an  awkward  moment. 
Dick  realized  that  as,  having  secured  the  boat,  he  presented 
himself  for  Juliet's  low-spoken  introduction. 

"Mr.  Green— Lord  Saltash!" 

Saltash  extended  a  hand,  his  odd  eyes  full  of  quizzical 
amusement.  "I've  heard  your  name  before,  I  think.  And 
I  believe  I've  seen  you  somewhere  too.  Ah,  yes !  It's  coming 
back !  You  are  the  Orpheus  who  plays  the  flute  to  the  wild 
beasts  at  High  Shale.  I've  been  wanting  to  meet  you.  I 
listened  to  you  from  my  car  one  night,  and — on  my  soul — I 
nearly  wept !" 

Dick  smiled  with  a  touch  of  cynicism.  "Miss  Moore  was 
listening  that  night  too,"  he  said. 

"Yes,"  Juliet  said  quickly.    "I  was  there." 

Saltash  looked  at  her  questioningly  for  a  moment,  then 
his  look  returned  to  Dick.  "I  am  the  friend  who  never  tells," 
he  observed.  "So  it  was — Miss  Moore — you  were  playing 
to,  was  it?  Ah,  Juliette!"  He  threw  her  a  sudden  smile. 
"I  would  I  could  play  like  that !" 

She  uttered  her  soft,  low  laugh.  "No;  you  have  quite 
enough  accomplishments,  man  ami.  Now,  if  you  don't  mind, 
I  think  we  had  better  walk  back  and  find  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Field- 


Saltash  197 

ing.  Perhaps  you  know — or  again  perhaps  you  don't — they 
live  at  Shale  Court.  And  I  am  with  them — as  Mrs.  Field- 
ing's companion.  I — "  she  hesitated  momentarily — "have 
left  Lady  Jo." 

"Oh,  I  know  that,"  said  Saltash.  "I've  missed  you  badly. 
We  all  have.  When  are  you  coming  back  to  us  ?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Juliet. 

He  gave  her  one  of  his  humorous  looks.  "Next  week — 
some  time — never  ?" 

She  opened  her  sun-shade  absently.    "Probably,"  she  said. 

"Rather  hard  on  Lady  Jo,  what?"  he  suggested.  "Don't 
you  miss  her  at  all  ?" 

"No,"  said  Juliet.    "I  can't— honestly — say  I  do." 

"Oh,  let  us  be  honest  at  all  costs !"  he  said.  "Do  you  know 
what  Lady  Jo  is  doing  now  ?" 

Juliet  hesitated  an  instant,  as  if  the  subject  were  distaste- 
ful to  her.  "I  can  guess,"  she  said  somewhat  distantly. 

"I'll  bet  you  can't,"  said  Saltash,  with  a  twist  of  the  eye- 
brows that  was  oddly  characteristic  of  him.  "So  I'll  tell 
you.  She's  running  in  an  obstacle  race,  and — to  be  quite, 
quite  honest — I  don't  think  she's  going  to  win." 

There  was  a  moment's  pause.  Then  the  man  on  Juliet's 
other  side  spoke,  briefly  and  with  decision.  "Miss  Moore  is 
no  longer  interested  in  Lady  Joanna  Farringmore's  doings. 
Their  friendship  is  at  an  end." 

Juliet  made  a  slight  gesture  of  remonstrance,  but  she 
spoke  no  word  in  contradiction. 

A  gleam  of  malice  danced  in  Saltash's  eyes ;  it  was  like  the 
turn  of  a  rapier  in  a  practised  hand.  "Most  wise  and 
proper!"  he  said.  "Juliette,  I  always  admired  your  discre- 
tion." 

"You  were  always  very  kind.  Charles  Rex,"  she  made 
grave  reply. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  PRICE 

THEY  went  back  up  the  winding  glen,  and  as  they  went 
Lord  Saltash  talked,  superbly  at  his  ease,  of  the  doings  of 
the  past  few  weeks,  "since  you  and  that  naughty  Lady  Jo 
dropped  out,"  as  he  expressed  it  to  Juliet.  He  had  just  re- 
cently been  to  Paris,  had  motored  across  France,  had  just 
returned  by  sea  from  Bordeaux  in  his  yacht,  the  Night 
Moth. 

"Landed  to-day — forgot  this  unspeakable  flower-show — 
had  to  put  in  to  get  her  cleaned  up  for  Cowes — though  it's 
quite  possible  I  shan't  go  near  Cowes  when  all's  said  and 
done.  She's  quite  seaworthy,  warranted  not  to  kick  in  a 
gale.  If  anyone  wanted  her  for  a  cruise — she's  about  the  best 
thing  going." 

They  reached  the  shrubbery  to  be  nearly  deafened  by  the 
band. 

"Come  through  the  gardens!"  said  Saltash,  with  a  shud- 
der. "We  must  get  out  of  this  somehow." 

"But  my  people !"  objected  Juliet. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Green  will  go  and  find  them,  won't  you,  Mr. 
Green  ?"  Saltash  turned  a  disarming  smile  upon  him. 

But  Green  looked  straight  back  without  a  smile.  "Miss 
Moore  is  under  my  escort,"  he  observed.  "If  she  agrees,  I 
think  we  had  better  go  together." 

198 


The  Price  199 

"And  do  you  agree,  Juliette?"  enquired  Saltash  with  in- 
terest. 

Juliet  met  the  mocking  eyes  with  a  smile  that  was  certainly 
unintentional.  "They  may  be  in  the  Castle,"  she  said.  "I 
know  they  meant  to  go." 

"Good!"  he  ejaculated.  "Then  come  to  the  Castle!  I 
will  get  you  tea  in  my  own  secret  den  if  such  a  thing  is  to 
be  had — tea  or  a  cocktail,  ma  Juliette!" 

"Will  you  lead  the  way  ?"  said  Juliet,  and  for  a  second — 
only  a  second — her  hand  pressed  Dick's  arm  with  a  quick, 
confidential  pressure  that  was  not  without  its  appeal.  "We 
always  follow  Charles  Rex !"  she  said. 

Saltash  chuckled.     Plainly  the  adventure  amused  him. 

They  entered  the  trim  gardens,  escaping  thankfully  from 
the  wandering  crowd  of  sight-seers.  Saltash  led  the  way 
with  a  certain  unconscious  arrogance  of  bearing.  Somehow, 
his  ugliness  notwithstanding,  he  fitted  his  surroundings  per- 
fectly, save  that  the  white  yachting-suit  ought  to  have  been 
fashioned  of  satin,  and  a  sword  should  have  dangled  at  his 
side.  The  old  stone  turrets  that  towered  above  the  blazing 
parterres  gleamed  in  the  hot  sunlight — a  mediaeval  castle  of 
romance. 

"What  a  glorious  old  place !"  said  Juliet. 

He  turned  to  her.    "You  have  never  seen  it  before?" 

"Never,"  she  answered. 

He  made  her  a  bow  that  was  slightly  foreign.  There  was 
French  blood  in  his  veins.  "I  give  you  welcome,  maladi,"  he 
said,  "I  and  my  poor  castle  are  all  yours  to  command." 

He  made  a  gallant  figure  there  on  his  stone  terrace.  The 
girl's  eyes  shone  a  little,  but  they  turned  almost  immediately 
to  the  other  man  at  her  side. 

"Beautiful,  isn't  it,  Dick?"  she  said. 

He  met  her  look,  and  she  was  conscious  of  a  chill.    She 


200  The  Obstacle  Race 

had  never  seen  him  look  so  aloof,  so  cynical.  "A  temple  of 
delight !"  he  said. 

His  manner  offended  her.  She  turned  deliberately  away 
from  him.  And  again  Lord  Saltash  chuckled,  as  though  at 
some  secret  joke. 

They  entered  by  a  narrow  door  at  the  head  of  a  flight  of 
steps.  "This  at  least  is  private,"  declared  Saltash,  as  he  took 
a  key  from  an  inner  pocket. 

"Does  no  one  ever  come  in  here  when  you  are  away?" 
Juliet  asked. 

"Not  by  this  entrance,"  he  said.  "There  is  another  into 
the  Castle  itself  which  is  known  to  a  few.  It  leads  into  the 
music  room  whence  Mr.  Green  will  be  able  to  start  upon  his 
search." 

He  threw  a  mischievous  glance  at  Green  who  met  it  with 
a  look  so  direct,  and  so  unswerving  that  the  odd  eyes  blinked 
and  turned  away. 

But  curiously  a  spirit  of  perversity  seemed  to  have  entered 
into  Juliet.  She  also  looked  at  Dick.  "I  wish  you  would  go 
and  find  them,"  she  said.  "  I  know  they  will  be  wondering 
where  we  are." 

His  brows  went  up.  She  thought  he  was  going  to  refuse. 
And  then  quite  suddenly  he  yielded.  "Certainly  if  you  wish 
it !"  he  said.  "And  when  they  are  found  ?" 

"Oh,  dump  them  in  the  great  hall !"  said  Saltash.  "To  be 
left  till  called  for !" 

"Charles !"  protested  Juliet. 

He  grinned  at  her — a  wicked,  monkeyish  grin,  and  threw 
open  the  door,  disclosing  a  steep  and  winding  stone  stair. 

"Will  you  be  pleased  to  enter!"  he  said,  in  the  tone  of  one 
issuing  a  royal  command. 

But  she  hung  for  a  moment,  looking  back  with  a  strange 
wistfulness  at  the  man  she  was  leaving.  The  imprisoned  air 


The  Price  201 

came  out  into  the  hot  sunshine  like  a  cold  vapour.  She 
shivered  a  little. 

"Dick!"  she  said. 

He  stopped  at  the  foot  of  the  outside  steps  looking  up  at 
her.  His  eyes  were  extremely  bright,  and  something  within 
her  shrank  from  their  straight  regard.  It  conveyed  posses- 
sion, dominance;  almost  it  conveyed  a  menace. 

"When  you  have  found  them,  come  and — tell  me!"  she 
said. 

He  lifted  his  hat  to  her  with  punctilious  courtesy,  and 
turned  away.  "I  will,"  he  said. 

"That's  a  masterful  sort  of  person,"  observed  Saltash,  as 
they  mounted  the  dimly-lit  turret  stair.  "What  does  he  do 
for  a  living  ?" 

Juliet  hesitated,  conscious  of  a  strong  repugnance  to  dis- 
cuss her  lover  with  this  man  from  her  old  world  whom, 
strangely,  at  that  moment,  she  felt  that  she  knew  so  infinitely 
better.  But  she  could  not  withhold  an  answer  to  so  ordinary 
a  question.  Moreover  Saltash  could  be  imperious  when  he 
chose,  and  she  knew  instinctively  that  it  was  not  wise  to  cross 
him. 

"By  profession,"  she  said  slowly  at  length,  "he  is — a  vil- 
lage schoolmaster." 

Saltash's  laugh  stung,  though  it  was  exactly  what  she 
had  expected.  But  he  qualified  it  the  next  moment  with  care- 
less generosity. 

"Quite  a  presentable  cavalier,  ma  Juliette!  And  a  fixed 
occupation  is  something  of  an  advantage  at  times,  n'est-ce- 
pas? — Je  t'aime,  tu  I'aime!  And  how  soon  do  you  ride  away  ? 
Or  is  that  question  premature?" 

Juliet's  face  burned  in  the  dimness,  but  she  was  in  front 
of  him  and  thankfully  aware  that  he  could  not  see  it.  "I  am 
not  answering  any  more  questions,  Charles,"  she  said.  "Now 


202  The  Obstacle  Race 

that  you  have  got  me  into  your  ogre's  castle,  you  must  be — 
kind." 

"I  will  be  kindness  itself/'  he  assured  her.  "You  know  I 
am  the  soul  of  hospitality.  All  I  have  is  yours." 

The  narrow  stair  ended  at  a  small  stone  landing  on  which 
was  a  door.  Juliet  stepped  aside  as  she  reached  it,  and  waited 
for  her  host.  "It's  rather  like  a  prison,"  she  said. 

"You  won't  think  so  when  you  get  through  that  door," 
he  said.  "By  Jove!  To  think  that  I've  actually  got  you — 
you  of  all  people ! — here  in  my  stronghold !  Do  you  realize 
that  without  my  permission  you  can't  possibly  get  out  again  ?" 

Juliet's  laugh  was  absolutely  spontaneous.  She  faced  him 
in  that  narrow  space  with  the  poise  and  confidence  of  a 
queen.  The  light  from  a  window  that  pierced  the  wall  above 
shone  down  upon  her.  In  that  moment  she  was  endowed 
with  an  extraordinary  beauty  that  was  more  of  being,  of 
personality,  than  of  feature. 

"It  is  exactly  this  that  I  have  played  for,  Charles  Rex," 
she  said.  "You  hold  all  the  cards,  wton  ami.  But — the  game 
is  mine." 

"How  so?"  He  was  looking  at  her  curiously,  a  dancing 
demon  in  his  eyes. 

She  put  out  her  hand  to  him,  and  as  he  took  it,  sank  to 
the  stone  floor  in  a  superb  curtsey.  "Because  I  claim  your 
gracious  protection,  my  lord  the  king.  I  ask  your  royal 
favour." 

He  lifted  her  hand  to  his  lips  as  she  rose.  "You  are — as 
ever — quite  irresistible,  ma  Juliette/'  he  smiled.  "But — do 
you  really  contemplate  marrying  this  fortunate  young  man? 
Because  there  are  limits — even  to  my  generosity.  I  am  not 
sure  that  I  can  permit  that." 

Her  eyes  looked  straight  into  his.  "You  can  do — anything 
you  choose  to  do,  Charles  Rex,"  she  said ;  "except  one  thing." 


The  Price  203 

He  made  a  grimace  at  her.  "I  am  King  in  my  own  castle 
anyway,"  he  observed,  watching  her.  "And  you  are  in  my 
mercy." 

"It  is  your  mercy  that  I  am  waiting  for,"  she  said,  a  faint 
smile  at  the  corners  of  her  lips. 

"Ah !"  he  said,  stood  a  moment  longer,  contemplating  her, 
then  turned  abruptly  and  flung  open  the  door  against  which 
he  stood. 

It  led  into  a  winding  passage  of  such  a  totally  different 
character  from  the  stone  staircase  they  had  just  mounted 
that  Juliet  stood  gazing  down  it  for  some  seconds  before  she 
obeyed  his  mute  gesture  to  pass  through.  It  was  thickly 
carpeted,  deadening  all  sound,  and  the  walls  were  hung  with 
some  heavy  material,  in  the  colour  of  old  oak.  It  was  lighted 
by  three  long  perpendicular  slits  of  windows,  let  into  a 
twelve-feet  thickness  of  wall.  Juliet  had  a  glimpse  of  many 
pine  trees  as  she  passed  them. 

The  passage  ended  in  heavy  curtains  of  the  same  dark- 
brown  material.  She  stopped  and  looked  at  her  companion. 

"What  is  it?"  he  said,  with  a  laugh.  "Are  you  afraid  of 
my  inner  sanctuary  ?" 

He  parted  the  curtains,  disclosing  a  tall  oak  door.  She 
saw  no  latch  upon  it,  but  his  hand  went  up  behind  the  curtain, 
and  she  heard  the  click  of  a  spring.  In  a  moment  the  tall 
door  opened  before  her. 

"Go  in !"  he  said  easily. 

She  entered  a  strange  room,  oak-panelled,  shaped  like  a 
cone,  lighted  only  by  a  glass  dome  in  the  roof.  It  was  the 
most  curious  chamber  she  had  ever  seen.  She  trod  on  a 
tiger-skin  as  she  entered,  and  noted  that  the  floor  was  covered 
with  them.  There  was  no  chair  anywhere,  only  a  long,  deep 
couch,  also  draped  with  tiger-skins.  Tiger  faces  glared  at 
her  from  all  directions.  She  heard  the  door  click  behind 


204  The  Obstacle  Race 

her  and  turning  realized  that  it  had  disappeared  in  the  oak 
panelling  against  which  her  host  was  standing. 

He  laughed  at  her  quizzically,  "I  believe  you  are 
frightened." 

She  looked  around  her,  seeing  no  exit  anywhere.  "It  is 
just  the  sort  of  freak  apartment  I  should  expect  you  to  de- 
light in,"  she  said. 

"You  wouldn't  have  come  if  you  had  known,  would  you?" 
he  said,  a  faint  note  of  jeering  in  his  voice. 

"Of  course  I  should,"  said  Juliet. 

"Of  course!"  he  mocked.  "I  am  such  a  peculiarly  safe 
person,  am  I  not?  Every  member  of  your  charming  sex 
trusts  me  instinctively." 

She  turned  and  faced  him.  "Don't  be  ridiculous,  Charles ! 
You  see,  I  happen  to  know  you." 

He  looked  at  her  with  something  of  the  air  of  a  monkey 
that  contemplates  snatching  some  forbidden  thing.  "Why 
did  you  run  away  ?"  he  said. 

She  hesitated.    "That's  a  hard  question,  isn't  it  ?" 

"Oh,  don't  mind  me !"  he  said.  "I  don't  flatter  myself  I 
was  the  cause." 

Her  dark  brows  were  slightly  drawn.  "No,  you  were  not," 
she  said.  "It  was  just — it  was  Lady  Jo  herself,  Charlie.  No 
one  else." 

"Ah!"  His  goblin  smile  flashed  out  at  her.  "Poor  erring 
Lady  Jo !  Don't  be  too  hard  on  her !  She  has  her  points." 

She  laid  her  hand  quickly  on  his  arm.  "Don't  try  to  de- 
fend her !  She  is  quite  despicable.  I  have  done  with  her." 

His  hand  was  instantly  on  hers.  He  laughed  into  her 
eyes.  "I'll  wager  you  have  a  lingering  fellow-feeling  for  her 
even  yet." 

"Not  since  she  was  reported  to  have  run  away  with  you," 
countered  Juliet. 


The  Price  205 

He  laughed  aloud.  "Ah!  She  forfeited  your  sympathy 
there,  did  she  ?  Mais  Juliette,"  his  voice  sank  suddenly  upon 
a  caressing  note,  "there  are  few  women  to  whom  I  could  not 
give  happiness — for  a  time." 

"I  know,"  said  Juliet,  and  drew  her  hand  away.  "That  is 
why  we  all  admire  you  so.  But  even  you,  most  potent 
Charles,  couldn't  satisfy  a  woman  who  was  wanting — some 
one  else." 

"You  don't  think  I  could  make  her  forget  ?"  he  said. 

She  shook  her  head,  smiling.  "When  the  real  thing 
comes  along,  all  shams  must  go  overboard.  It's  the  rule  of 
the  game." 

"And  this  is  the  real  thing?"  he  questioned. 

She  made  a  little  gesture  as  of  one  who  accepts  the  inevit- 
able. "Je  le  crois  bien,"  she  said  softly. 

Lord  Saltash  made  a  grimace.  "And  I  am  to  give  you  up 
without  a  thought  to  this  bounder?" 

"You  would,"  she  replied  gently,  "if  I  were  yours  to 
give." 

"If  you  were  Lady  Jo  for  instance?"  he  suggested. 

"Exactly.  If  I  were  Lady  Jo."  She  looked  at  him  with 
the  faint  smile  still  at  her  lips.  "It  won't  cost  you  much  to 
be  generous,  Charles,"  she  said. 

"How  do  you  know  what  it  costs?"  He  frowned  at  her 
suddenly.  "You'll  accuse  me  of  being  benevolent  next.  But 
I'm  not  benevolent,  and  I'm  not  going  to  be.  I  might  be  to 
Lady  Jo,  but  not  to  you,  ma  cherie, — never  to  you!"  His 
grin  burst  through  his  frown.  "Come!  Sit  down!  I'll  get 
you  a  drink." 

She  turned  to  the  deep  settee,  and  sank  down  among  tiger- 
skins  with  a  sigh.  He  opened  a  cupboard  in  the  panelling 
of  the  wall,  and  there  followed  the  chink  of  glasses  and  the 
cheery  buzz  of  a  syphon.  In  a  few  moments  he  came  to 


206  The  Obstacle  Race 

her  with  a  tall  glass  in  his  hand  containing  a  frothy  drink. 
"Look  here,  Juliette!"  he  said.  "Come  to  France  with  me 
in  the  Night  Moth,  and  we'll  find  Lady  Jo !" 

She  accepted  the  drink  and  lay  back  without  looking  at 
him.  "You  always  were  an  eccentric,"  she  said.  "I  don't 
want  to  find  Lady  Jo." 

He  sat  on  the  head  of  the  settee  at  her  elbow.  "It's  quite 
a  fair  offer,"  he  said,  as  if  she  had  not  spoken.  "You  will — 
eventually — return  from  Paris,  and  no  one  will  ever  know. 
In  these  days  a  woman  of  the  world  pleases  herself  and  is 
answerable  to  none.  Mais,  Juliette!"  He  reached  down  and 
coaxingly  held  her  hand.  "Puorquoi  pas?" 

She  lifted  her  eyes  slowly  to  his  face.  "I  have  told  you," 
she  said. 

"You're  not  in  earnest !"  he  protested. 
She  kept  her  look  steadily  upon  him.    "Charles  Rex,  I  am 
in  earnest." 

His  fingers  clasped  hers  more  closely.  "But  I  can't  allow 
it.  We  can't  spare  you.  And  you — yourself,  Juliette — you 
will  never  endure  life  in  a  backwater.  You  will  pine  for  the 
old  days,  the  old  friends,  the  old  lovers, — as  they  will  pine 
for  you." 

"No,  never!"    said  Juliet  firmly. 

He  leaned  down  to  her.  "I  say  you  will.  This  is — a  mid- 
summer madness.  This  will  pass." 

She  started  slightly  at  his  words.  The  sparkling  liquid 
splashed  over.  She  lifted  the  glass  to  her  lips,  and  drank. 
When  she  ceased,  he  took  it  softly  from  her,  and  put  it  to 
his  own.  Then  he  set  down  the  empty  glass  and  slipped  his 
arm  behind  her. 

"Juliette,  I  am  going  to  save  you,"  he  said,  "from  your- 
self." 

She  drew  away  from  him.    "Charles,  I  forbid  that !" 


The  Price  207 

She  was  breathing  quickly  but  her  voice  was  quiet.  There 
was  indomitable  resolution  in  her  eyes. 

He  paused,  looking  at  her  closely.  "You  deny — to  me — 
what  you  were  permitting  with  so  much  freedom  barely 
half-an-hour  ago  to  the  village  schoolmaster?"  he  said. 

Her  face  flamed.  "I  have  always  denied  you — that !"  she 
said. 

He  smiled.  "Times  alter,  Juliette.  You  are  no  longer  in  a 
position  to  deny  me." 

She  kept  her  eyes  upon  him.  "You  mean  I  have  trusted 
you  too  far  ?"  she  said,  a  deep  throb  in  her  voice.  "I  might 
have  known !" 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Life  is  a  game  of  hazard,  is 
it  not  ?  And  you  were  always  a  daring  player.  But,  Juliette, 
you  cannot  always  win.  This  time  the  luck  is  against 
you." 

She  was  silent.  Very  slowly  her  eyes  left  his.  She 
drooped  forward  as  she  sat. 

He  leaned  down  to  her  again,  his  face  oddly  sympathetic. 
"After  all, — you  claimed  my  protection,"  he  said. 

She  made  a  sudden  movement.  She  turned  sharply,  almost 
blindly.  She  caught  him  by  the  shoulders.  "Oh,  Charles !" 
she  said.  "Charles  Rex !  Is  there  no  mercy — no — honour 
in  you  ?" 

There  was  a  passion  of  supplication  in  her  voice  and  ac- 
tion. As  she  held  him  he  could  have  clasped  her  in  his  arms. 
But  he  did  not.  He  sat  motionless,  looking  at  her,  his  ex- 
pression still  monkey-like,  half-wicked,  half-wistful. 

"Well,  you  shouldn't  tempt  me,  Juliette"  he  said.  "It 
isn't  fair  to  a  miserable  sinner.  You  were  always  the  cherry 
just  out  of  reach.  Naturally,  I'm  inclined  to  snatch  when 
I  find  I  can." 

Juliet  was  trembling,   but   she  controlled   her  agitation. 


208  The  Obstacle  Race 

"No,  that  isn't  allowed,"  she  said.  "It  isn't  the  game.  And 
you  never — seriously — wanted  me  either." 

"But  I'm  never  serious !"  protested  Saltash.  "Neither  are 
you.  It's  your  one  solid  virtue." 

"I  am  serious  now,"  she  said. 

He  looked  at  her  quizzically.  "Somehow  it  suits  you. 
Well,  listen,  Juliette!  I'll  strike  a  bargain  with  you.  When 
you  are  through  with  this,  you  will  come  with  me  for  that 
cruise  in  the  Night  Moth.  Come !  Promise ! 

"But  I  am  not — quite  mad,  Rex!"  she  said. 

He  lifted  his  hands  to  hers  and  lightly  held  them.  "It  is 
no  madder  a  project  than  the  one  you  are  at  present  engaged 
upon.  What  ?  You  won't  ?  You  defy  me  to  do  my  worst  ?" 

"No,  I  don't  defy  you,"  she  said. 

He  flashed  a  smile  at  her.  "How  wise !  But  listen !  It's 
a  bargain  all  the  same.  You  put  me  on  my  honour.  I  put  you 
on  yours.  Go  your  own  way !  Pursue  this  bubble  you  call 
love!  And  when  it  bursts  and  your  heart  is  broken — you 
will  come  back  to  me  to  have  it  mended.  That  is  the  price  I 
put  upon  my  mercy.  I  ask  no  pledge.  It  shall  be — a  debt 
of  honour.  We  count  that  higher  than  a  pledge." 

"Ah !"  Juliet  said,  and  suppressed  a  sudden  tremor. 

He  stood  up,  gallantly  raising  her  as  he  did  so.  "And  now 
we  will  go  and  look  for  your  friends,"  he  said.  "Is  all  well, 
ma  cherief  You  look  pale." 

She  forced  herself  to  smile.  "You  are  a  preposterous  per- 
son, Charles  Rex,"  she  said.  "Yes,  let  us  go !" 

She  turned  with  him  towards  the  panelling,  but  she  did  not 
see  by  what  trick  he  opened  again  the  door  by  which  they 
had  entered.  She  only  saw,  with  a  wild  leap  of  the  heart, 
Dick  Green,  upright,  virile,  standing  against  the  dark  hang- 
ings of  the  passage  beyond. 


CHAPTER  IV 

KISMET 

HE  was  breathing  hard,  as  if  he  had  been  hurrying.  He 
spoke  to  her  exclusively,  ignoring  the  man  at  her  side. 

"Will  you  come  at  once  ?  Mrs.  Fielding  has  been  taken  ill." 

She  started  forward.    "Dick!  Where  is  she?" 

"Downstairs."  Briefly  he  answered  her.  "She  collapsed 
in  one  of  the  tents.  They  brought  her  into  the  house.  She 
is  in  the  library." 

Juliet  hastened  along  the  passage.  Like  Dick,  she  seemed 
no  longer  aware  of  Saltash's  presence.  He  came  behind,  a 
speculative  expression  on  his  ugly  face. 

"Let  me  go  first !"  Dick  said,  as  they  reached  the  head  of 
the  winding  stairs. 

Juliet  gave  place  to  him  without  a  word.  They  descended 
rapidly. 

At  the  foot  the  door  stood  open  to  the  terrace.  They  came 
again  into  the  blazing  sunshine,  and  here  Juliet  paused  and 
looked  back  at  Saltash. 

He  came  to  her  side.  "Don't  look  so  alarmed !  It's  prob- 
ably only  the  heat.  Do  you  know  the  way  to  the  library? 
Through  that  conservatory  over  there  is  the  shortest  cut.  I 
suppose  I  may  come  with  you  ?  I  may  be  of  use." 

"Of  course !"  said  Juliet.    "Thank  you  very  much." 

Dick  barely  glanced  over  his  shoulder.  He  was  already 
on  his  way. 

*4  209 


210  The  Obstacle  Race 

They  entered  the  Castle  again  by  the  conservatory  that 
Saltash  had  indicated.  It  was  a  mass  of  flowers,  but  the 
public  were  evidently  not  admitted  here,  for  it  was  empty. 
In  the  centre  a  nymph  hung  over  a  marble  basin  under  a 
tinkling  fountain.  They  passed  quickly  by  to  an  open  glass 
door  that  led  into  the  house.  Here  Dick  stopped  and  drew 
back,  looking  at  Juliet. 

"I  will  wait  here,"  he  said. 

She  nodded  and  went  swiftly  past  him  into  the  room. 

It  was  a  dark  apartment,  book-lined,  chill  of  atmosphere, 
with  heavy,  ancient  furniture,  and  a  sense  of  solitude  more 
suggestive  of  some  monastic  dwelling  than  any  ordinary 
habitation.  The  floor  was  of  polished  oak  that  shone  with 
a  sombre  lustre. 

Juliet  paused  for  a  moment  involuntarily  upon  entering. 
It  was  as  if  a  sinister  hand  had  been  laid  upon  her,  arresting 
her.  The  gloom  blinded  her  after  the  hot  radiance  outside. 
Then  a  voice — Fielding's  voice — spoke  to  her,  and  she  went 
forward  gropingly. 

He  met  her,  took  her  urgently  by  the  shoulder.  "Thank 
heaven,  you're  here  at  last !"  he  said. 

Looking  at  him,  she  saw  him  as  a  man  suddenly  stricken 
with  age.  His  face  was  grey.  He  led  her  to  a  settee  by  the 
high  oak  fireplace,  and  there — white,  inanimate  as  a  waxen 
figure — she  found  Vera  Fielding. 

Fear  pierced  her,  sharp  as  the  thrust  of  a  knife.  She 
freed  herself  from  Fielding's  grip,  and  knelt  beside  the  silent 
form.  For  many  awful  seconds  she  watched  and  listened, 
not  breathing. 

"Is  she  gone?"  asked  Fielding  in  a  hoarse  whisper  at 
last. 

She  looked  up  at  him.  "Get  brandy — hot  bottles — quick ! 
Send  Dick — he's  in  the  conservatory.  No,  stay !  Send  Salt- 


Kismet  211 

ash!  He's  there  too.  He'll  know  where  to  find  things. 
Tell  Dick  to  come  here !  Have  you  sent  for  a  doctor  ?" 

"There's  been  no  one  to  send,"  he  answered  frantically. 
"Some  man  helped  to  bring  her  in  here,  but  she  didn't  faint 
till  after  we  got  in,  and  then  I  couldn't  leave  her.  He  went 
off  to  look  after  the  crowd  going  round  the  Castle." 

"All  right,"  Juliet  said.  "Lord  Saltash  will  see  to  that. 
Ask  them  to  come  in !" 

She  was  unfastening  the  clinging  gown  with  steady  fin- 
gers. Whatever  the  dread  at  her  heart  there  was  no  sign  of 
it  apparent  in  her  bearing.  She  moved  without  haste  or 
agitation. 

At  a  touch  on  her  shoulder  she  looked  up  and  saw  Dick  at 
her  side.  "Ah,  there  you  are !"  she  said.  "We  want  a  doc- 
tor. Will  you  see  to  it  ?  No  doubt  there's  a  telephone  some- 
where. Ask  Lord  Saltash !" 

"In  the  gun-room,"  said  Saltash.  "Door  next  to  this  on 
the  left.  Name  of  Rossiter.  Shall  I  see  to  it?" 

"No — no,"  she  said.  "You  get  some  brandy,  please — at 
once!" 

They  obeyed  her  orders  with  promptitude.  Dick  went 
straight  from  the  room.  Saltash  turned  to  the  fireplace,  and 
pressed  an  electric  bell  three  times  very  emphatically. 

Then  he  came  to  Juliet's  side.  "You  ought  to  lay  her 
flat,  Juliette.  I  know  this  sort  of  seizure.  Heart  of  course ! 
My  mother  died  of  it." 

"Help  me  to  lift  her !"  said  Juliet. 

They  raised  her  between  them  with  infinite  care  and 
flattened  the  cushions  beneath  her.  Then  Saltash,  his  queer 
face  full  of  the  most  earnest  concern  began  to  chafe  one  of 
the  nerveless  hands. 

Fielding  tramped  ceaselessly  up  and  down  the  room,  his 
head  on  his  chest.  Every  time  he  drew  near  his  wife 


212  The  Obstacle  Race 

he  glanced  at  her  and  swung  away  again,  as  one  without 
hope. 

After  a  brief  interval  the  door  opened  to  admit  a  silent- 
footed  butler  bearing  a  tray.  Saltash  turned  upon  him 
swiftly. 

"Brandy,  Billings?  That's  right.  And  look  here!  Find 
Mrs.  Parsons!  Tell  her  a  lady  has  been  taken  ill  in  the 
library!  She  had  better  get  a  bed  ready,  and  have 
some  boiling  water  handy.  Anything  else?"  He  looked  at 
Juliet. 

She  shook  her  head.  "No,  nothing  till  the  doctor  comes. 
I  hope  he  won't  be  long." 

Saltash  poured  out  some  brandy.  Fielding  came  to  a 
standstill  behind  Juliet,  and  stood  looking  on. 

"We  won't  lift  her  again,"  whispered  Juliet.  "Try  a 
spoon !" 

He  gave  it  to  her,  and  she  slipped  it  between  the  white 
lips.  But  there  was  no  sign  of  life,  no  attempt  to  swallow. 

"She  is  dead !"  said  Fielding  heavily. 

Saltash  glanced  at  him.  "I  think  not,"  he  said  gently. 
"I'm  nearly  certain  I  felt  her  pulse  move  just  now." 

The  door  opened  again,  and  Dick  entered.  He  went 
straight  to  the  squire,  and  put  his  arm  round  his  bent 
shoulders.  "There'll  be  a  doctor  here  in  ten  minutes,"  he 
said. 

Fielding  seemed  barely  to  hear  the  words.  "Do  you  think 
she'll  ever  speak  again,  Dick  ?"  he  said. 

"Please  God  she  will,  sir,"  said  Dick  very  steadily. 

He  kept  his  arm  round  Fielding,  and  in  a  few  moments 
succeeded  in  drawing  him  aside.  He  put  him  into  a  chair 
by  the  table,  poured  out  some  brandy  and  water,  and  made 
him  drink  it.  Looking  up  a  moment  later,  he  found  Salt- 
ash's  odd  eyes  curiously  upon  him.  He  returned  the  look 


Kismet  213 

with  a  conscious  sense  of  antagonism,  but  Saltash  almost 
immediately  turned  away. 

There  followed  what  seemed  an  interminable  space  of 
waiting,  during  which  no  change  of  any  sort  was  apparent 
in  the  silent  figure  on  the  settee.  The  blatant  bray  of  the 
band  still  sounded  in  the  distance  with  a  flaunting  gaiety 
almost  intolerable  to  those  who  waited.  Saltash  frowned  as 
he  heard  it,  but  he  did  not  stir  from  Juliet's  side. 

Then,  aften  an  eternity  of  suspense,  the  sombre-faced 
butler  opened  the  door  again  and  ushered  in  the  doctor. 
Saltash  went  to  meet  him  and  brought  him  to  the  settee. 
Fielding  got  up  and  came  forward. 

Dick  stood  for  a  moment,  then  turned  and  went  back  to 
the  conservatory,  where  a  few  seconds  later  Saltash  joined 
him. 

"I  should  like  to  burn  that  damn'  band  alive !"  he  remarked 
as  he  did  so. 

Dick  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said  nothing. 

Again  Saltash's  eyes  dwelt  upon  him  with  curiosity.  "I 
want  to  know  you,"  he  said  suddenly.  "I  hope  you  don't 
object?" 

"I  am  vastly  honoured  by  your  notice,"  said  Dick. 

Saltash  nodded.  "Well,  don't  be  an  ass  about  it !  I  am  a 
most  inoffensive  person,  I  assure  you.  And  it  isn't  my  fault 
that  I  was  on  friendly  terms  with  Mademoiselle  Juliette  be- 
fore she  forsook  the  world,  etc.,  etc.,  and  turned  to  you  to 
fill  the  void.  Do  you  flatter  yourself  you  are  going  to  marry 
her  by  any  chance  ?" 

A  swift  gleam  shot  up  in  Dick's  eyes.  He  stiffened  invol- 
untarily. "That  is  a  subject  I  cannot  discuss— even  with 
you,"  he  said. 

Saltash  smiled  good-humouredly.  "Well.  I  expected  that. 
But  your  courtship  on  the  lake  this  afternoon  was  so  delight- 


214  The  Obstacle  Race 

fully  ingenuous  that  I  couldn't  help  wondering  what  your 
intentions  were." 

Dick's  mouth  became  a  simple  hard  line.  He  looked  the 
other  man  up  and  down  with  lightning  rapidity  ere  he  re- 
plied with  significance.  "My  intentions,  my  lord,  are — 
honourable." 

Saltash  bowed  with  his  hand  on  his  heart  and  open  mock- 
ery in  his  eyes.  "La  pauvre  Juliette!  And  have  you  told 
her  yet  ?  No,  look  here !  Don't  knock  me  down !  There's 
no  sense  in  taking  offence  at  a  joke  you  can't  understand. 
And  it  would  be  bad  manners  to  have  a  row,  with  that  poor 
soul  in  there  at  death's  door.  Moreover,  if  you  really  want 
to  marry  the  princess  Juliette,  it'll  pay  you  to  be  friends 
with  me." 

"I  doubt  if  anything  would  induce  me  to  be  that,"  said 
Dick  curtly. 

"Oh,  really?  What  have  I  done ?  No,  don't  tell  me !  It 
would  take  too  long.  I  am  aware  I'm  a  byeword  for  wicked- 
ness in  these  parts,  heaven  alone  knows  why.  But  at  least 
I've  never  injured  you."  Saltash's  smile  was  suddenly  dis- 
arming again. 

"Never  had  much  opportunity,  have  you  ?"  said  Dick. 

"No,  but  I've  got  one  now — quite  a  good  one.  I  could 
put  an  end  to  this  little  idyll  of  yours  for  instance  without 
the  smallest  difficulty — if  I  felt  that  way." 

"I  don't  believe  you!"  flashed  Dick. 

"No?  Well,  wait  till  I  do  it  then!"  There  was  amused 
tolerance  in  Saltash's  rejoinder.  "You'll  pipe  another  tune 
then,  I  fancy." 

"Shall  I  ?"  Dick  said.  He  paused  a  moment,  his  eyes,  ex- 
tremely bright,  fixed  unwaveringly  upon  the  swarthy  face  in 
front  of  him.  "If  I  do — you'll  dance  to  it!"  he  said  with 
grim  assurance. 


Kismet  215 

Saltash  smothered  a  laugh.  "Well  done,  I  say!  You've 
scored  a  point  at  last !  I  was  waiting  for  that.  You'll  like 
me  better  now,  most  worthy  cavalier.  I  daren't  suggest  a 
drink  under  the  circumstances,  but  I'll  owe  you  one."  He 
extended  his  hand  with  a  royal  air.  "Will  you  shake  ?" 

Dick  held  back.    "Will  you  play  the  game?"  he  said. 

Saltash  grinned.  "My  own  game?  Certainly!  I  always 
do." 

Dick's  hand  came  out  to  him.  Somehow  he  was  hard  to 
refuse.  "A  straight  game  ?"  he  said. 

Saltash's  brows  expressed  amused  surprise.  "I  always 
play  straight — till  I  begin  to  lose, — chevalier,"  he  said. 

"And  then — you  cheat  ?"  questioned  Dick. 

"Like  the  devil,"  laughed  Saltash.  "We  all  do  that. 
Don't  you  ?" 

"No,"  Dick  said  briefly. 

"You  don't  ?  You  always  put  all  your  cards  on  the  table  ? 
Come  now !  Do  you  ?" 

Dick  hesitated,  and  Saltash's  grin  became  more  pro- 
nounced. "All  right !  You  needn't  answer,"  he  said  lightly. 
"Do  you  know  I  thought  you  weren't  quite  as  simple  as  you 
appeared  at  first  sight.  Just  as  well  perhaps.  Juliette's 
cavalier  mustn't  be  too  rustic."  He  stopped  to  look  at  Dick 
appraisingly.  "Yes,  I'm  glad  on  the  whole  that  your  inten- 
tions are  honourable,"  he  ended  with  a  smile.  "I  rather  doubt 
if  you  pull  'em  off.  But  you  may — you  may." 

He  turned  sharply  with  the  words  as  if  a  hand  had  touched 
him  and  faced  round  upon  Juliet  as  she  came  out  onto  the 
step. 

Her  face  had  an  exhausted  look,  but  she  smiled  faintly  at 
the  two  men  as  she  joined  them. 

"She  is  still  living,"  she  said.  "The  doctor  gives  just  a 
shade  of  hope.  But — "  She  looked  at  Saltash — "he  abso- 


216  The  Obstacle  Race 

lutely  forbids  her  being  moved — at  all.  I  hope  it  won't  be  a 
terrible  inconvenience  to  you." 

"It  will  be  a  privilege  to  serve  you — or  your  friends — in 
any  way,"  said  Saltash. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said.  "I  am  sure  Mr.  Fielding  will  be 
very  grateful  to  you.  The  doctor  is  going  to  send  in  a  nurse. 
Of  course  I  shall  not  leave  her.  She  has  come  to  depend 
upon  me  a  good  deal.  And  we  thought  of  telephoning  to 
her  maid  to  bring  everything  necessary  from  Shale  Court." 

"Of  course !"  said  Saltash  kindly.  "Look  here,  my  dear ! 
Don't  for  heaven's  sake  feel  you've  got  to  ask  my  permis- 
sion for  everything  you  do !  Treat  the  place  and  everyone 
in  it  as  your  own !" 

"Thank  you,"  she  said  again.  "Then,  Charles,  if  you're 
sure  you  don't  mind,  I'll  send  for  my  dog  as  well." 

"What!  Christopher  Columbus?  You've  got  him  with 
you,  have  you?"  Saltash's  smile  lighted  his  dark  face. 
"Lucky  animal!  Have  him  over  by  all  means!  I  shall  be 
delighted  to  see  him." 

"You  are  very  kind,"  she  said,  and  turned  with  a  hint  of 
embarrassment  to  Dick.  "Mr.  Fielding  says  that  you  will 
want  to  be  getting  back  and  there  is  no  need  to  wait.  Will 
you  take  the  little  car  back  to  the  Court  ?" 

"Certainly,"  Dick  said.  "Would  you  care  to  give  me  a 
list  of  the  things  you  want  the  maid  to  bring?" 

"How  kind  of  you!"  she  said,  and  hesitated  a  moment, 
looking  at  him.  "But  I  think  I  needn't  trouble  you.  Cox  is 
very  sensible.  I  can  make  her  understand  on  the  telephone." 

He  looked  back  at  her,  standing  very  straight.  "In  that 
case — I  will  go,"  he  said.  "Good-bye !" 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  him.  "I — shall  see  you  again," 
she  said,  and  there  was  almost  a  touch  of  pleading  in  her 
voice. 


Kismet  217 

His  fingers  closed  and  held.  "Yes,"  he  said,  and  smiled 
into  her  eyes  with  the  words — a  smile  in  which  determination 
and  tenderness  strangely  mingled.  "You  will  certainly  see 
me  again." 

And  with  that  he  was  gone,  striding  between  the  massed 
flowers  without  looking  back. 

"Exit  Romeo!"  murmured  Saltash.    "Enter — Kismet!" 

But  Juliet  had  already  turned  away. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  DRIVING  FORCE 

THAT  Saturday  night  concert  at  High  Shale  entailed  a 
greater  effort  on  Dick's  part  than  any  that  had  preceded  it. 
He  forced  himself  to  make  it  a  success,  but  when  it  was 
over  he  was  conscious  of  an  overwhelming  weariness  that 
weighed  him  down  like  a  physical  burden. 

He  said  good-night  to  the  men,  and  prepared  to  depart 
with  a  feeling  that  he  was  near  ing  the  end  of  his  endurance. 
It  was  not  soothing  to  nerves  already  on  edge  to  be  waylaid 
by  Ashcott  and  made  the  unwilling  recipient  of  gloomy 
forebodings. 

"We  shan't  hold  'em  much  longer,"  the  manager  said. 
"They're  getting  badly  out  of  hand.  There's  talk  of  sending 
a  deputation  to  Lord  Wilchester  or — failing  him — Ivor 
Yardley,  the  K.  C.  chap  who  is  in  with  him  in  this  show." 

"Yardley !"  Dick  uttered  the  name  sharply. 

"Yes,  ever  met  him?  He  took  over  a  directorship  when 
he  got  engaged  to  Lord  Wilchester's  sister — Lady  Joanna 
Farringmore.  They're  rather  pinning  their  hopes  on  him,  it 
seems.  Do  you  know  him  at  all  ?" 

"I've  met  him — once,"  Dick  said.  "Went  to  him  for  ad- 
vice— on  a  matter  of  business." 

"Any  good  ?"  asked  Ashcott. 

218 


The  Driving  Force  219 

"Oh  yes,  shrewd  enough.  Hardest-headed  man  at  the 
Bar,  I  believe.  I  didn't  know  he  was  a  director  of  this 
show.  They  won't  get  much  out  of  him." 

"I  fancy  they're  going  to  ask  you  to  draw  up  a  petition," 
said  Ashcott. 

"Me!"  Dick  turned  on  him  in  a  sudden  blaze  of  anger. 
"I'll  see  'em  damned  first !"  he  said. 

Ashcott  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "It's  your  affair.  You're 
the  only  man  who  has  any  influence  with  'em.  I'm  sick  of 
trying  to  keep  the  peace." 

Dick  checked  his  indignation.  "Poor  devils!  They  cer- 
tainly have  some  cause  for  grievance,  but  I'm  not  going  to 
draw  up  their  ultimatum  for  them.  I've  no  objection  to 
speaking  to  Yardley  or  any  other  man  on  their  behalf,  but 
I'm  hanged  if  I'll  be  regarded  as  their  representative. 
They'll  make  a  strike-leader  of  me  next." 

"Well,  they're  simmering,"  Ashcott  said,  as  he  prepared 
to  depart.  "They'll  boil  over  before  long.  If  they  don't  find 
a  responsible  representative  they'll  probably  run  amuck  and 
get  up  to  mischief." 

"Oh,  man,  stop  croaking !"  Dick  said  with  weary  irritation 
and  went  away  down  the  hill. 

He  took  the  cliff-path  though  the  night  was  dark  with 
storm-clouds.  Somehow,  instinctively,  his  feet  led  him 
thither.  There  were  no  nightingales  singing  now,  and  the 
gorse  had  long  since  faded  in  the  fierce  heat  of  summer. 
The  sea  lay  leaden  far  below  him,  barely  visible  in  the  dim- 
ness. And  there  was  no  star  in  the  sky. 

Heavily  he  tramped  over  the  ground  where  Juliet  had 
lingered  on  that  night  of  magic  in  the  spring,  and  as  he  went, 


220  The  Obstacle  Race 

he  told  himself  that  he  had  lost  her.  Whatever  the  outcome 
of  to-day's  happenings,  she  would  never  be  the  same  to  him 
again.  She  had  passed  out  of  his  reach.  Her  own  world 
had  claimed  her  again  and  there  could  be  no  return.  He 
recalled  the  regret  in  her  eyes  at  parting.  Surely — most 
surely — she  had  known  that  that  was  the  end.  For  her  the 
midsummer  madness  was  over,  burnt  away  like  the  glory  of 
the  gorse-bushes  about  him.  With  a  conviction  that  was  be- 
yond all  reason  he  knew  that  they  had  come  to  a  parting  of 
the  ways. 

And  there  was  no  bond  between  them,  no  chain  but  that 
which  his  love  had  forged.  She  had  pleaded  to  retain  her 
freedom,  and  now  with  bitter  intuition  he  knew  wherefore. 
She  had  always  realized  that  to  which  he  in  his  madness  had 
been  persistently  blind.  She  had  known  that  there  were 
obstacles  insurmountable  between  them  and  the  happy  con- 
summation of  their  love.  She  had  faced  the  fact  that  the 
glory  would  depart. 

Again  he  felt  the  clinging  of  her  arms  as  he  had  felt  it 
only  that  afternoon.  Again  against  his  lips  there  rose  her 
quivering  whisper,  "Just  for  to-day,  Dick !  Just  for  to-day !" 
Yes,  she  had  known  even  then.  Even  then  for  her  the  glory 
had  begun  to  fade. 

He  clenched  his  hands  in  sudden  fierce  rebellion.  It  was 
unbearable.  He  would  not  endure  it.  This  stroke  of  des- 
tiny— he  would  fight  it  with  all  the  strength  of  his  manhood. 
He  would  overthrow  this  nameless  barrier  that  had  arisen 
between  them.  He  would  sacrifice  all — all  he  had — to  reach 
her.  Somehow — whatever  the  struggle  might  cost — he 
would  clasp  her  again,  would  hold  her  against  all  the  world. 


The  Driving  Force  221 

And  then — like  a  poisoned  arrow  out  of  the  darkness — 
another  thought  pierced  him.  What  if  she  were  indeed  of 
those  who  loved  for  a  space  and  passed  smiling  on?  What 
if  the  fatal  taint  of  the  world  from  which  she  had  come  to 
him  had  touched  her  also,  withering  the  heart  in  her,  making 
true  love  a  thing  impossible?  What  if  she  had  indeed  been 
fashioned  in  the  same  mould  as  the  worthless  woman  whom 
she  sought  to  defend? 

But  that  was  unthinkable,  intolerable.  He  flung  the  evil 
suggestion  from  him,  but  it  left  a  burning  wound  behind. 
There  was  no  escape  from  the  fact  that  she  was  on  terms 
of  intimacy  with  the  man  with  whom  that  woman's  name 
had  been  shamefully  associated.  And — remembering  the  dis- 
comfiture she  had  betrayed  at  their  meeting — he  told  him- 
self bitterly  that  she  would  have  given  much  to  have  con- 
cealed that  intimacy  had  it  been  possible. 

But  here  his  loyalty  cried  out  that  he  was  wronging  her. 
Juliet — his  Juliet  of  the  steadfast  eyes  and  low,  sincere  voice 
— was  surely  incapable  of  double  dealing!  Whatever  her 
life  in  the  past  had  been,  however  frivolous,  however  artifi- 
cial, it  had  been  given  to  him — perhaps  to  him  alone — to 
know  her  as  she  was.  A  great  wave  of  self-reproach  went 
over  him.  How  had  he  dared  to  doubt  her? 

The  sea  moaned  with  a  dreary  sound  along  the  shore.  A 
few  heavy  drops  of  rain  fell  around  him.  Mechanically  he 
quickened  his  pace.  He  came  at  length  down  the  steep  cliff- 
path  to  the  gate  that  led  to  the  village.  And  here  to  his  sur- 
prise a  shuffling  footstep  told  him  of  the  presence  of  another 
human  being  out  in  the  desolate  darkness.  Dimly  he  dis- 
cerned a  bulky  shape  leaning  against  the  rail. 


222  The  Obstacle  Race 

He  came  up  to  it.    "Robin !"  he  said  sharply. 

A  low  voice  answered  him  in  startled  accents.  "Oh, 
Dicky !  I  thought  you  were  never  coming !" 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  Dick  said. 

He  took  the  boy  by  the  shoulder  with  the  words  and  Robin 
cowered  away. 

"Don't  be  cross!  Dicky,  please  don't  be  cross!  I  only 
came  to  look  for  you,"  he  said  with  nervous  incoherence. 
"I  didn't  mean  to  be  out  late.  I  couldn't  help  it.  Don't  be 
cross !" 

But  Dick  was  implacable.  "You  know  you've  no  business 
out  at  this  hour,"  he  said.  "I  warned  you  last  time — when 
you  went  to  The  Three  Tuns — "  He  paused  abruptly. 
"Have  you  been  to  The  Three  Tuns  to-night?" 

"No!"  said  Robin  eagerly. 

Dick's  hand  pressed  upon  him.    "Is  that  the  truth  ?" 

Robin  became  incoherent  again.  "I  only  came  to  meet 
you.  I  didn't  think  you'd  be  so  late.  And  it  was  so  hot 
to-night.  And  my  head  ached."  He  broke  off.  "Dicky, 
you're  hurting  me !" 

"You  have  told  me  a  lie,"  Dick  said. 

Robin  shrank  at  his  tone.  "How  did  you  know?"  he 
whispered  awestruck. 

Dick  did  not  answer.  He  shifted  his  hold  from  Robin's 
shoulder  to  his  arm  and  turned  him  about.  Robin  went  with 
him,  shuffling  his  feet  and  trembling. 

Dick  led  him  in  grim  silence  down  the  path  to  the  village- 
road,  past  the  Ricketts'  cottage,  now  in  darkness,  up  the 
hill  beyond  that  led  to  the  school. 

Robin  went  with  him  submissively  enough,  but  he  stumbled 


The  Driving  Force  223 

several  times  on  the  way.  As  they  neared  the  end  of  the 
journey  he  began  to  talk  again  anxiously,  propitiatingly. 

"I  didn't  mean  to  go,  Dicky,  but  I  was  so  hot  and  thirsty. 
And  I  met  Jack  and  I  went  in  with  him.  There  were  a  lot 
of  fellows  there  and  Jack  treated  me,  but  I  didn't  have  very 
much.  My  head  ached  so,  and  I  sat  down  in  a  corner  and 
went  to  sleep  till  it  was  closing  time.  Then  old  Swag  made 
me  get  out,  so  I  came  to  wait  for  you.  I  didn't  hit  him  or 
anything,  Dicky.  I  was  quite  quiet  all  the  while.  So  you 
won't  be  cross,  will  you, — not  like  last  time  ?" 

"I  am  going  to  punish  you  if  that's  what  you  mean,"  Dick 
said,  as  he  opened  the  garden  gate. 

Robin  shrank  again,  shivering  like  a  frightened  dog. 
"But,  Dicky,  I  only— I  only—" 

"Broke  the  rule  and  lied  about  it,"  his  brother  said  un- 
compromisingly. "You  know  the  punishment  for  that." 

Robin  attempted  no  further  appeal.  He  went  silently 
into  the  house  and  blundered  up  to  his  room.  There  was 
only  one  thing  left  to  do,  and  that  was  to  pay  the  penalty — 
of  which  Dick's  wrath  was  infinitely  the  hardest  part  to  bear. 

He  crouched  down  on  the  floor  by  the  bed  to  wait.  The 
light  from  the  passage  shone  in  through  the  half-open  door 
and  the  great  lamp  at  the  lodge-gates  of  the  Court  opposite, 
which  was  kept  burning  all  night,  glared  in  at  the  unblinded 
window,  but  there  was  no  light  in  the  room.  There  was 
something  almost  malignant  to  Robin's  mind  about  the 
searching  brilliance  of  this  lamp.  He  hid  his  eyes  from  it, 
huddling  his  face  in  the  bed-clothes,  listening  intently  the 
while  for  Dick's  coming  but  hearing  only  the  dull  thumping 
of  his  own  heart. 


224  The  Obstacle  Race 

There  was  no  one  in  the  house  except  the  two  brothers. 
A  woman  came  in  every  day  from  the  village  to  do  the  work 
of  the  establishment.  Now  that  Jack  had  found  quarters 
elsewhere  there  was  not  a  great  deal  to  be  done  since  Robin 
was  accustomed  also  to  making  himself  useful  in  various 
ways.  It  occurred  to  him  suddenly  as  he  crouched  there 
waiting  that  Dick  had  been  too  hurried  to  eat  much  supper 
before  his  departure  for  High  Shale  that  evening.  The 
thought  had  been  in  his  brain  before,  but  subsequent  events 
had  dislodged  it.  Now,  with  every  nerve  alert  and  pricking 
with  suspense,  it  returned  to  him  very  forcibly.  Dicky 
was  hungry  perhaps — or  consumed  with  thirst,  as  he  himself 
had  been.  And  he  would  certainly  go  empty  to  bed  unless 
he,  Robin,  plucked  up  courage  to  go  down  and  wait  upon 
him. 

It  needed  considerable  courage,  for  his  instinct  was  always 
to  hide  when  he  had  incurred  Dick's  anger.  Judicial  though 
it  invariably  was,  it  was  the  most  terrible  thing  the  world 
held  for  him.  It  shook  him  to  the  depths,  and  to  go  down 
and  confront  it  again  with  the  penalty  still  unpaid  was  for  a 
long  time  more  than  he  could  calmly  contemplate.  But  as 
the  minutes  crept  on  and  still  Dick  did  not  come,  it  was 
gradually  borne  in  upon  him  that  this,  and  this  alone,  was 
the  thing  that  must  be  done.  It  was  his  job,  forced  upon 
him  by  an  inexorable  fate.  Dick  would  probably  be  much 
more  angry  with  him  for  doing  it,  but  somehow  in  a  vague, 
unreasoning  fashion  he  realized  that  it  had  got  to  be  done. 

Even  then  it  took  him  a  long  time  to  screw  himself  up  to 
the  required  pitch  of  nervous  energy  required.  He  ached 
for  the  sound  of  Dick's  step  on  the  stairs,  but  it  did  not 


The  Driving  Force  225 

come.  And  so  at  last  he  knew  there  was  no  help  for  it. 
Whatever  the  cost,  he  must  fulfil  the  task  that  had  been 
laid  upon  him. 

With  intense  reluctance  he  uncovered  his  face,  flinching 
from  the  stark  glare  of  the  lamp  across  the  road,  and  dragged 
himself  to  his  feet.  It  was  difficult  to  move  without  noise, 
but  he  made  elaborate  efforts  to  do  so.  He  reached  the  head 
of  the  stairs  and  hung  there  listening. 

Had  he  heard  a  movement  below  he  would  have  stumbled 
headlong  back  to  cover,  but  no  sound  of  any  sort  reached 
him.  The  compelling  force  urged  him  afresh.  He  gripped 
the  stair-rail  and  crept  downward  like  a  stealthy  baboon. 

The  stairs  creaked  alarmingly.  More  than  once  he  paused, 
prepared  for  precipitate  retreat,  but  still  he  heard  no  sound, 
and  gradually  a  certain  desperate  hope  came  to  him.  Per- 
haps Dicky  was  asleep !  Perhaps  the  power  that  drove  him 
would  be  satisfied  if  he  collected  some  things  on  a  tray  and 
left  them  in  the  little  hall  for  Dicky  to  find  when  he  finally 
came  up!  If  this  could  be  done — and  he  could  get  back 
safe  to  the  sheltering  darkness  before  he  found  out!  He 
would  not  mind  the  subsequent  caning,  if  only  he  need  not 
meet  Dicky  face  to  face  again  beforehand.  Dicky's  eyes 
when  they  looked  at  him  sternly  were  anguish  to  his  soul. 
And  they  certainly  would  not  hold  any  kindness  for  him 
until  the  punishment  was  over.  So  argued  poor  Robin's 
anxious  brain  as  he  reached  the  foot  of  the  stairs  and  stood 
a  moment  under  the  lamp  dimly  burning  there,  summoning 
strength  to  creep  past  the  open  door  of  the  dining-room. 

A  candle  was  flickering  on  the  table,  so  he  was  sure  Dick 
must  be  there.  Would  he  see  him  pass  ?  Would  he  call  him 


226  The  Obstacle  Race 

in?  Robin's  heart  raced  with  terror  at  the  thought.  But 
no !  The  urging  force  drove  him  in  sickening  apprehension 
past  the  door,  and  still  there  was  no  sound. 

He  was  at  the  kitchen-door  at  the  end  of  the  passage,  his 
fingers  fumbling  at  the  latch  when  suddenly  he  remembered 
that  he  had  no  candle.  There  was  no  candle  to  be  had !  The 
only  one  available  downstairs  was  the  one  Dick  had  taken 
into  the  dining-room.  He  could  not  go  upstairs  again  to 
get  another.  He  had  no  matches  wherewith  to  explore  the 
kitchen.  He  stood  struck  motionless  by  this  fresh  problem. 

But  Dicky  was  doubtless  asleep  or  he  must  have  heard 
those  creaking  stairs!  Then  there  was  still  a  chance.  He 
might  creep  into  the  room  and  take  the  candle  without  wak- 
ing him.  He  was  gaining  confidence  by  the  prolonged 
silence.  Dicky  must  certainly  be  fast  asleep. 

With  considerably  greater  steadiness  than  he  had  yet 
achieved  he  returned  to  the  open  door  and  peeped 
stealthily  in. 

Yes,  Dick  was  there.  He  had  flung  himself  down  at  the 
table  on  which  he  had  set  the  candle,  and  he  was  lying  across 
in  with  his  head  on  his  arms.  Asleep  of  course !  That  could 
be  the  only  explanation  of  such  an  attitude.  Yet  Robin  in 
the  act  of  advancing,  stopped  in  sudden  doubt  with  a  scared 
backward  movement,  his  eyes  upon  one  of  Dick's  hands 
that  was  clenched  convulsively  and  quivering  as  if  he  were 
in  pain.  It  certainly  did  not  look  like  the  hand  of  a  man 
asleep. 

The  next  moment  Robin's  ungainly  form  had  knocked 
against  the  door-handle  and  Dick  was  sitting  upright  look- 
ing at  him.  His  face  was  grey,  he  looked  unutterably  tired, 


The  Driving  Force  227 

his  mouth  had  the  stark  grimness  of  the  man  who  endures, 
asking  nothing  of  Fate. 

"Hullo,  boy !"  he  said.  "Why  aren't  you  in  bed?"  Then 
seeing  Robin's  unmistakably  hang-dog  air,  "Oh,  I  forgot! 
Go  on  upstairs  !  I'm  coming." 

Robin  turned  about  like  a  kicked  dog.  But  the  driving 
force  stopped  him  on  the  threshold.  He  stood  a  second  or 
two,  then  turned  again  with  a  species  of  sullen  courage. 

"May  I  have  the  candle  ?"  he  said,  not  looking  at  Dick. 

"What  for  ?"  said  Dick.    "Haven't  you  got  one  upstairs  ?" 

Robin  stood  a  moment  or  two  debating  with  himself, 
then  made  a  second  movement  to  go.  "All  right.  I'll 
fetch  it." 

"Wait  a  minute !"  Dick's  voice  compelled.  "What  do  you 
want  a  candle  down  here  for?" 

Robin  backed  against  the  door-post  with  a  kind  of  heavy 
defiance.  "Want  to  get  something — out  of  the  kitchen,"  he 
muttered. 

"What  do  you  want  to  get  ?"  said  Dick. 

Robin  was  silent,  stubbornly,  insistently  silent,  the  fingers 
of  one  hand  working  with  agitated  activity. 

"Robin!" 

It  was  the  voice  of  authority.  He  had  to  respond  to  it. 
He  made  a  lumbering  gesture  towards  the  speaker,  but  his 
eyes  remained  obstinately  lowered  under  the  slag  of  hair 
that  hung  over  his  forehead. 

Dick  sat  for  a  few  seconds  looking  at  him,  then  with  a 
sudden  sigh  that  caught  him  unawares  he  got  up. 

"What  did  you  come  down  for?    Tell  me!"  he  said. 

His  tone  was  absolutely  quiet,  but  something  in  his  utter- 


228  The  Obstacle  Race 

ance  or  the  sigh  that  preceded  it — or  possibly  some  swiftly- 
piercing  light  of  intuition — seemed  to  send  a  galvanizing 
current  through  Robin.  With  clumsy  impulsiveness  he 
came  to  Dick  and  stood  before  him. 

"I  was  going — to  get  you — something  to  eat,"  he  said, 
speaking  with  tremendous  effort.  "You  must  be — pretty 
near  starving — and  I  forgot."  He  paused  to  fling  a  nervous 
look  upwards.  "I  thought  you  were  asleep.  I  didn't  know — 
or  I  wouldn't  have  done  it.  I— didn't  mean  to  get  in  the 
way."  His  voice  broke  oddly.  He  began  to  tremble.  "I'll  go 
now,"  he  said. 

But  Dick's  hand  came  out,  detaining  him.  "You  came 
down  to  get  me  food  ?"  he  said. 

"Yes,"  muttered  Robin,  with  his  head  down.  "Thought 
I'd — put  it  in  the  hall — so  you'd  find  it — before  you  came 
up." 

Dick  stood  silent  for  a  space,  looking  at  him.  His  eyes 
were  very  gentle  and  the  grimness  had  gone  from  his  mouth, 
but  Robin  could  not  see  that.  He  stood  humped  and  quiver- 
ing, expectant  of  rebuke. 

But  he  recognized  the  change  when  Dick  spoke.  "Thought 
you'd  provide  me  with  the  necessary  strength  to  hammer  you, 
eh?"  he  said,  and  suddenly  his  arm  went  round  the  mis- 
shapen shoulders ;  he  gave  Robin  a  close  squeeze.  "Thanks, 
old  chap,"  he  said. 

Robin  looked  up  then.  The  adoring  devotion  of  a  dumb 
animal  was  in  his  eyes.  He  said  nothing,  being  for  the 
moment  beyond  words. 

Dick  let  him  go.  A  clock  on  the  mantelpiece  was  striking 
twelve.  "You  get  to  bed,  boy !"  he  said.  "I  don't  want  any- 


The  Driving  Force  229 

thing  to  eat,  thanks  all  the  same."  He  paused  a  moment,  then 
held  out  his  hand.  "Good-night !" 

It  was  tacit  forgiveness  for  his  offence,  and  as  such  Robin 
recognized  it.  Yet  as  he  felt  the  kindly  grasp  his  eyes  filled 
with  tears. 

"I'm — I'm  sorry,  Dicky,"  he  stammered. 

"I'm  sorry  too,"  Dick  said.  "But  that  won't  undo  it.  For 
heaven's  sake,  Robin,  never  lie  to  me  again !  There !  Go  to 
bed !  I'm  going  myself  as  soon  as  I've  had  a  smoke.  Good- 
night!" 

It  was  a  definite  dismissal,  and  Robin  turned  away  and 
went  stumblingly  from  the  room. 

His  brother  looked  after  him  with  a  queer  smile  in  his 
eyes.  It  was  Juliet  who  had  taught  Robin  to  say  he  was 
sorry.  He  threw  himself  into  an  easy-chair  and  lighted  a 
pipe.  Perhaps  after  all  in  his  weariness  he  had  exaggerated 
the  whole  matter.  Perhaps — after  all — she  might  yet  find 
that  she  loved  him  enough  to  cast  her  own  world  aside.  Re- 
calling her  last  words  to  him,  he  told  himself  that  he  had 
been  too  quick  to  dispair.  For  she  loved  him — she  loved  him ! 
Not  all  the  fashionable  cynics  her  world  contained  could  alter 
that  fact. 

A  swift  wave  of  exultation  went  through  him,  combating 
his  despair.  However  heavy  the  odds, — however  formidable 
the  obstacles — he  told  himself  he  would  win — he  would 
win! 

Going  upstairs  a  little  later,  he  was  surprised  to  hear  a 
low  sound  coming  from  Robin's  room.  He  had  thought  the 
boy  would  have  been  in  bed  and  asleep  some  time  since.  He 
stopped  at  the  door  to  listen. 


230  The  Obstacle  Race 

The  next  moment  he  opened  it  and  quietly  entered,  for 
Robin  was  sobbing  as  if  his  heart  would  break. 

There  was  no  light  in  the  room  save  that  which  shone 
from  the  park-gates  opposite  and  the  candle  he  himself 
carried.  Robin  was  sunk  in  a  heap  against  the  bed  still  fully 
dressed.  He  gave  a  great  start  at  his  brother's  coming, 
shrinking  together  in  a  fashion  that  seemed  to  make  him 
smaller.  His  sobbing  ceased  on  the  instant.  He  became 
absolutely  still,  his  claw-like  hands  rigidly  gripped  on  the 
bedclothes,  his  face  wholly  hidden.  He  did  not  even  breathe 
during  the  few  tense  seconds  that  Dick  stood  looking  down 
at  him.  He  might  have  been  a  creature  carved  in  granite. 
Then  Dick  set  down  his  candle,  went  to  him,  sat  on  the  low 
bed,  and  pulled  the  shaggy  head  onto  his  knees. 

"What's  the  matter,  old  chap?"  he  said. 

All  the  tension  went  out  of  Robin  at  his  touch.  He  clung 
to  him  in  voiceless  distress. 

Dick's  heart  smote  him.  Why  had  he  left  the  boy  so 
long?  He  laid  a  very  gentle  hand  upon  him. 

"Come,  old  chap!"  he  said  "Get  a  hold  on  yourself! 
What's  it  all  about?" 

Robin's  shoulders  heaved  convulsively ;  his  hold  tightened. 
He  murmured  some  inarticulate  words. 

Dick  bent  over  him.  "What,  boy?  What?  I  can't  hear. 
You  haven"!  been  up  to  any  mischief,  have  you?  Robin, 
have  you  ?"  A  sudden  misgiving  assailed  him.  "You  haven't 
hurt  anybody?  Not  Jack,  for  instance?" 

"No,"  Robin  said.  But  he  added  a  moment  later  with  a 
concentrated  passion  that  sounded  inexpressibly  vindictive, 
"I  hate  him !  I  do  hate  him !  I  wish  he  was  dead !" 


The  Driving  Force  231 

"Why?"  Dick  said.    "What  has  he  been  doing?" 

But  Robin  burrowed  lower  and  made  no  answer. 

Dick  sat  for  a  space  in  silence,  waiting  for  him  to  recover 
himself.  He  knew  very  well  that  he  had  good  reason  for 
his  rooted  dislike  for  Jack.  It  was  useless  to  attempt  any  argu- 
ment on  that  point.  But  when  Robin  had  grown  calmer,  he 
returned  to  the  charge  very  quietly  but  with  determination. 

"What  has  Jack  been  doing  or  saying?  Tell  me!  I've 
got  to  know." 

Robin  stirred  uneasily.  "Don't  want  to  tell  you,  Dicky," 
he  said. 

Dick's  hand  pressed  a  little  upon  him.  "You  must  tell 
me,"  he  said.  "When  did  you  meet  him?" 

Robin  hesitated  in  obvious  reluctance.  "It  was  after  sup- 
per," he  said.  "My  head  ached,  and  I  went  outside,  and  he 
came  down  the  drive.  And  he — and  he  laughed  about — 
about  you  coming  home  alone  from  Burchester,  and  said — 
said  that  your  game  was  up  anyhow.  And  I  didn't  know 
what  he  meant,  Dicky — "  Robin's  arms  suddenly  clung 
closer — "but  I  got  angry,  because  I  hate  him  to  talk  about 
you.  And  I — I  went  for  him,  Dicky."  His  voice  dropped 
on  a  shamed  note,  and  he  became  silent. 

"Well?"  Dick  said  gravely.    "What  happened  then?" 

Very  unwillingly  Robin  responded  to  his  insistence.  "He 
got  hold  of  me — so  that  I  couldn't  hurt  him — and  then  he 
said — he  said — "  A  great  sob  rose  in  his  throat  choking 
his  utterance. 

"What  did  he  say?" 

There  was  a  certain  austerity  in  Dick's  question.  Robin 
shivered  as  it  reached  him. 


232  The  Obstacle  Race 

With  difficulty  he  struggled  on.  "Said  that  only — a  fool 
— like  me — could  help  knowing  that — you  hadn't — a  chance 
— with  any  woman — so  long  as — so  long  as — "  He  choked 
again  and  sank  into  quivering  silence. 

Dick's  hand  found  the  rough  head  and  patted  it  very  ten- 
derly. "But  you're  not  fool  enough  to  take  what  Jack  says 
seriously,  are  you?"  he  said. 

Robin  stifled  a  sob.  "He  said  that — afterwards,"  he 
whispered.  "And  he  took  me  along  to  The  Three  Tuns — to 
make  me  forget  it." 

"You  actually  drank  with  him  after  that!"  Dick  said. 

"I  didn't  know  what  I  was  doing,  Dicky,"  he  make  apolo- 
getic answer.  "It — knocked  the  wind  out  of  me.  You  see, 
I — I'd  never  thought  of  that  before." 

He  began  to  whimper  again.  Dick  swallowed  down  some- 
thing that  tried  to  escape  him. 

"A  bit  of  an  ass,  aren't  you,  Robin?"  he  said  instead. 
"You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  there  isn't  a  word  of  truth 
in  it.  Anyhow — the  woman  I  love — isn't — that  sort  of 
woman." 

Robin  shifted  his  position  uneasily.  There  was  that  in  the 
words  that  vaguely  stirred  him.  Dick  had  never  spoken  in 
that  strain  before.  Slowly,  with  a  certain  caution,  he  lifted 
his  tear  stained  face  and  peered  up  at  his  brother  in  the  fitful 
candle-light. 

"You  do — want  to  marry  Miss  Moore  then,  Dicky?"  he 
asked  diffidently. 

Dick  looked  straight  back  at  him;  his  eyes  shone  with  a 
sombre  gleam  that  came  and  went.  For  several  seconds  he 
sat  silent,  then  very  steadily  he  spoke. 


The  Driving  Force  233 

"Yes,  I  want  her  all  right,  Robin,  but  there  are  some 
pretty  big  obstacles  in  the  way.  I  may  get  over  them — and 
I  may  not.  Time  will  prove." 

His  lips  closed  upon  the  words,  and  became  a  single  hard 
line.  His  look  went  beyond  Robin  and  grew  fixed.  The 
boy  watched  him  dumbly  with  awed  curiosity. 

Suddenly  Dick  moved,  gripped  him  by  the  shoulders  and 
pulled  him  upwards.  "There !  Go  to  bed !"  he  said.  "And 
don't  take  any  notice  of  what  Jack  says  for  the  future! 
Don't  fight  him  either!  Understand?  Leave  him  alone!" 

Robin  blundered  up  obediently.  Again  there  looked  forth 
from  his  eyes  the  dog-like  worship  which  he  kept  for  Dick 
alone.  "I'll  do— whatever  you  say,  Dicky,"  he  said  ear- 
nestly. "I — I'd  die  for  you — I  would !"  He  spoke  with 
immense  effort,  and  all  his  heart  was  in  the  words. 

Dick  smiled  at  him  quizzically.  "Instead  of  which  I  only 
want  you  to  show  a  little  ordinary  common  or  garden  sense," 
he  said.  "Think  you  can  do  that  for  me?" 

"I'll  try,  Dicky,"  he  said  humbly. 

"Yes,  all  right.  You  try !"  Dick  said,  and  got  up,  more 
moved  than  he  cared  to  show.  He  turned  to  go,  but  paused 
to  light  Robin's  candle  from  his  own.  "And  don't  forget 
I'm — rather  fond  of  you,  my  boy!"  he  said,  with  a  brief 
smile  over  his  shoulder  as  he  went  away. 

No,  Robin  was  not  likely  to  forget  that,  seeing  that  Dick's 
love  for  him  was  his  safeguard  from  all  evil,  and  his  love 
for  Dick  was  the  mainspring  of  his  life.  But — though  his 
development  was  stunted  and  imperfect — there  were  certain 
facts  of  existence  which  he  was  beginning  slowly  but  surely 
to  grasp.  And  one  of  these — before  but  dimly  suspected — 


234  The  Obstacle  Race 

he  had  realized  fully  to-night,  a  fact  beyond  all  questioning 
learnt  from  Dick's  own  lips. 

Dick's  words:  "The  woman  I  love,"  had  sunk  deep — 
deep  into  his  soul.  And  he  knew  with  that  intuition  which 
cannot  err  that  his  love  for  Juliet  was  the  greatest  thing 
life  held  for  him— -or  ever  could  hold  again. 

And  the  driving  force  gripped  Robin's  soul  afresh  as  he 
lay  wide-eyed  to  the  smothering  gloom  of  the  night.  What- 
ever happened — whoever  suffered — Dicky  must  have  his 
heart's  desire. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  SISTER  OF  MERCY 

FOR  five  days  after  that  burning  afternoon  of  the  flower- 
show  Juliet  scarcely  left  Vera  Fielding's  side.  During  those 
five  days  Vera  lay  at  the  point  of  death,  and  though  her 
husband  was  constantly  with  her  it  was  to  Juliet  that  she 
clung  through  all  the  terrible  phases  of  weakness,  breath- 
lessness,  and  pain  that  she  passed.  Through  the  dark  nights 
— though  a  trained  nurse  was  in  attendance — it  was  Juliet's 
hand  that  held  her  up,  Juliet's  low  calm  voice  that  reassured 
her  in  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  through  which  she  wan- 
dered. Often  too  spent  for  speech,  her  eyes  would  rest  with 
a  piteous,  child-like  pleading  upon  Juliet's  quiet  face,  and — 
for  Juliet  at  least — there  was  no  resisting  their  entreaty. 
She  laid  all  else  aside  and  devoted  herself  body  and  soul  to 
the  tender  care  of  the  sick  woman. 

Edward  Fielding  regarded  her  with  reverence  and  a  deep 
affection  that  grew  with  every  day  that  passed.  She  was 
always  so  gentle,  so  capable,  so  undismayed.  He  knew  that 
her  whole  strength  was  bent  to  the  task  of  saving  Vera's 
life,  and  even  when  he  most  despaired  he  found  himself 
leaning  upon  her,  gathering  courage  from  the  resolute  con- 
fidence with  which  she  shouldered  her  burden. 

"She  never  thinks  of  herself  at  all,"  he  said  once  to  Salt- 

235 


236  The  Obstacle  Race 

ash,  between  whom  and  himself  a  friendship  wholly  unavoid- 
able on  his  part  and  also  curiously  pleasant  had  sprung  up. 
"I  suppose  in  her  position  of  companion  she  has  been  more 
or  less  trained  for  this  sort  of  thing.  But  her  devotion  is 
amazing.  She  is  absolutely  indispensable  to  my  wife." 

"Juliette  seems  to  have  found  her  vocation,"  observed 
Saltash  with  a  lazy  chuckle.  "But  no,  I  should  not  say  that 
she  was  specially  trained  for  this  sort  of  thing,  though  cer- 
tainly it  seems  to  suit  her  passing  well.  All  the  same,  you 
won't  let  her  carry  it  too  far,  will  you?  Now  that  Mrs. 
Fielding  is  beginning  to  rally  a  little  it  might  be  a  good 
opportunity  to  make  her  take  a  rest." 

"Yes,  you're  right.  She  must  rest,"  Fielding  agreed. 
"She  is  so  marvellous  that  one  is  apt  to  forget  she  must  be 
nearly  worn  out." 

It  was  the  fifth  day  and  Vera  had  certainly  rallied.  She 
lay  in  the  sombre  old  library,  that  had  been  turned  into  the 
most  luxurious  bedroom  that  Saltash's  and  Juliet's  ingenuity 
could  devise,  listening  to  the  tinkle  of  the  water  in  the  con- 
servatory and  watching  Juliet  who  sat  in  a  low  chair  by  her 
side  with  a  book  in  her  lap  ready  to  read  her  to  sleep. 

There  was  a  couch  in  the  conservatory  itself  on  which 
sometimes  on  rare  occasions  Juliet  would  snatch  a  brief  rest, 
leaving  the  nurse  to  watch.  Columbus  regarded  this  couch 
as  his  own  particular  property,  but  he  always  gave  his  be- 
loved mistress  an  ardent  welcome  and  squeezed  himself  into 
as  small  a  compass  as  possible  at  the  foot  for  her  benefit. 
Otherwise,  he  occupied  the  middle  with  an  arrogance  of 
possession  which  none  disputed.  The  door  into  the  garden 
was  always  open,  and  Columbus  was  extremely  happy,  being 


The  Sister  of  Mercy  237 

of  supremely  independent  habits  and  quite  capable  of  trot- 
ting round  to  the  kitchen  premises  of  the  castle  for  his  daily 
portion  without  disturbing  anyone  en  route.  How  he  dis- 
covered the  kitchen  Juliet  never  knew.  Doubtless  his  ex- 
ploring faculty  stood  him  in  good  stead.  But  his  appearance 
there  was  absolutely  regular  and  orderly,  and  he  always 
returned  to  the  conservatory  when  he  had  been  fed  with 
the  bustling  self-importance  of  one  whose  time  was  of  value. 
He  never  entered  the  sick-room  except  on  invitation,  and  he 
never  raised  his  voice  above  a  whisper  when  in  the  conserva- 
tory. It  was  quite  evident  that  he  fully  grasped  the  situation 
and  accommodated  himself  thereto.  All  he  asked  of  life 
was  to  be  near  his  beloved  one,  and  the  snuffle  of  his  greet- 
ing whenever  she  joined  him  was  ample  testimony  to  the 
joy  of  his  simple  soul.  Just  to  see  her,  just  to  hear  her 
voice,  just  sometimes  to  kiss  and  be  kissed,  what  more  could 
any  dog  desire? 

Certainly  an  occasional  scamper  after  rabbits  in  the  park 
made  a  salutary  change,  but  Columbus  was  prudent  and  he 
never  suffered  himself  to  be  drawn  very  far  in  pursuit.  A 
sense  of  duty  or  expediency  always  brought  him  back  before 
long  to  the  couch  in  the  conservatory  to  lie  and  watch,  bright- 
eyed,  for  the  only  person  who  counted  in  his  world. 

He  was  watching  for  her  now,  but  without  much  hope 
of  her  coming.  She  seldom  left  Vera's  bedside  in  the  after- 
noon, for  it  was  then,  in  the  heat  of  the  day,  that  she 
usually  suffered  most.  But  to-day  she  had  been  better.  To- 
day for  the  first  time  she  was  able  to  turn  her  head  and 
smile  and  even  to  murmur  a  few  sentences  without  distress. 
Her  eyes  dwelt  upon  Juliet's  quiet  face  with  a  wistful  affec- 


238  The  Obstacle  Race 

tion.  She  had  come  to  lean  upon  her  strength  with  a  child's 
dependence. 

"Quite  comfortable?"  Juliet  asked  her  gently. 

"Quite,"  Vera  made  whispered  reply.  "But  you — you  look 
so  tired." 

Juliet  smiled  at  her.  "I  dare  say  I  shall  fall  asleep  if  you 
do,"  she  said. 

"You  ought  to  have  a  long  rest,"  said  Vera,  and  then  her 
heavy  eyes  brightened  and  went  beyond  her  as  her  husband's 
tall  figure  came  softly  in  from  the  conservatory. 

He  came  to  her  side,  stooped  over  her,  and  took  her  hand. 
Her  fingers  closed  weakly  about  his. 

"Send  her  to  bed!"  she  whispered.  "She  is  tired.  You 
come  instead!" 

He  bent  and  kissed  her  forehead  with  a  tenderness  that 
made  her  cling  more  closely.  "Shall  I  do  instead  ?"  he  asked 
her  gently. 

She  offered  him  her  lips  though  she  was  panting  a  little. 
"Yes,  I  want  you.  Make  Juliet — go  to  bed!" 

He  turned  to  Juliet,  his  wife's  hand  still  in  his.  All  the 
hard  lines  were  smoothed  out  of  his  face.  There  was  some- 
thing even  pathetic  about  his  smile. 

"Will  you  go  to  bed,  Juliet,"  he  said  in  that  new  gentle 
voice  of  his,  "and  leave  me  in  charge  ?" 

She  got  up.  "I  will  lie  down  in  the  conservatory,"  she 
said. 

"No — no!"  He  put  his  free  hand  on  her  arm  with  a 
touch  of  his  customary  imperiousness.  "That  won't  do. 
You're  to  go  to  bed  properly — and  sleep  till  you  can't  sleep 
any  longer.  Yes,  that's  an  order,  see?"  He  smiled  again 


The  Sister  of  Mercy  239 

at  her,  his  sudden  transforming  smile.  "Be  a  good  child  and 
do  as  I  tell  you !  Cox  is  within  call.  We'll  certainly  fetch 
you  if  we  find  we  can't  do  without  you." 

Juliet's  eyes  went  to  Vera. 

"Yes,  she  wants  to  get  rid  of  you  too,"  said  the  squire. 
"We're  pining  to  be  alone.  No,  we  won't  talk.  We  won't 
do  anything  we  ought  not,  eh,  Vera,  my  dear?  Nurse  will 
be  getting  up  in  another  hour  so  we  shan't  have  it  to  ourselves 
for  long." 

He  had  his  way.  He  could  be  quite  irresistible  when  he 
chose.  Juliet  found  herself  yielding  without  misgiving, 
though  till  then  he  had  only  been  allowed  at  Vera's  bedside 
for  a  few  minutes  at  a  time.  Vera  was  certainly  very  much 
better  that  day,  and  she  read  in  her  eyes  the  desire  to  meet 
her  husband's  wishes.  She  paused  to  give  him  one  or  two 
directions  regarding  medicine,  and  then  went  quietly  to  the 
door  of  the  conservatory. 

Columbus  sprang  to  greet  her  with  a  joy  that  convulsed 
him  from  head  to  tail,  and  she  gathered  him  up  in  her  arms 
and  took  him  with  her,  passing  back  through  the  library  in 
time  to  see  the  squire  lay  his  face  down  upon  the  slender 
hand  he  held  and  kiss  it. 

In  the  great  hall  outside  she  found  Saltash  loitering.  He 
came  at  once  to  meet  her,  and  had  taken  Columbus  from 
her  before  she  realized  his  intention. 

"He  is  too  heavy  for  you,  ma  chere,"  he  said,  with  his 
quizzing  smile.  "Lend  him  to  me  for  this  afternoon !  He's 
getting  disgracefully  fat.  I'll  take  him  for  a  walk." 

Relieved  of  Columbus'  weight,  she  became  suddenly  and 
overpoweringly  aware  of  a  dwindling  of  her  strength.  She 


240  The  Obstacle  Race 

said  no  word,  but  her  face  must  have  betrayed  her,  for  the 
next  thing  she  knew  was  Saltash's  arm  like  a  coiled  spring 
about  her,  impelling  her  towards  the  grand  staircase. 

"I'll  take  you  to  your  room,  Juliette,"  he  said.  "You 
might  miss  the  way  by  yourself.  You're  awfully  tired,  aren't 
you?" 

It  was  absurd,  but  a  curious  desire  to  weep  possessed 
her. 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Saltash,  with  his  semi-comic  tender- 
ness. "Don't  mind  me!  I  knew  you'd  come  to  it  sooner 
or  later.  You're  not  used  to  playing  the  sister  of  mercy  are 
you,  ma  mie,  though  it  becomes  you — vastly  well." 

"Don't,  Charles !"  she  murmured  faintly. 

"My  dear,  I  mean  no  harm,"  he  protested,  firmly  leading 
her  upwards.  "I  am  only — the  friend  in  need." 

She  took  him  at  his  word  though  half  against  her  will.  He 
guided  her  up  the  branching  staircase  to  the  gallery  above, 
bringing  her  finally  to  a  tall  oak  door  at  the  further  end. 

"Here  is  your  chamber  of  sleep,  Juliette!  Now  will  you 
make  me  a  promise?" 

She  left  his  supporting  arm  with  an  effort.  "Well,  what 
is  it?" 

"That  you  will  go  to  bed  in  the  proper  and  correct  way 
and  sleep  till  further  notice,"  he  said.  "You  can't  go  for 
ever,  believe  me.  And  you  need  it." 

He  was  looking  at  her  with  a  softness  of  persuasion  that 
sat  so  oddly  on  his  mischievous  monkey-face  that  in  spite  of 
herself,  with  quivering  lips,  she  smiled. 

"You're  very  good,  Charles  Rex,"  she  said.  "I  wonder 
how  much  longer  you  will  manage  to  keep  it  up." 


The  Sister  of  Mercy  241 

He  bowed  low.  "Just  as  long  as  I  have  your  exemplary 
example  before  me,"  he  said.  "Who  knows  ?  We  may  both 
fling  our  caps  over  the  windmill  before  we  have  done." 

She  shook  her  head,  made  as  if  she  would  enter  the  room, 
but  paused.  "You  will  take  care  of  Columbus?"  she  said. 

"Every  care,"  he  promised.  "If  I  fail  to  bring  him  back 
to  you  intact  you  will  never  see  my  face  again." 

She  had  opened  the  door  behind  her,  but  still  she  paused. 
"Charles!" 

Her  voice  held  an  unutterable  appeal.  A  grin  of  sheer 
derision  gleamed  for  a  second  in  his  eyes  and  vanished. 
"They  ring  up  from  the  Court  every  day,  Juliette.  Pre- 
sumably he  gets  the  news  by  that  channel.  He  has  not 
troubled  to  obtain  it  in  any  other  way." 

"How  could  he?"  Juliet  said,  but  her  face  was  paler  than 
before ;  it  had  a  grey  look.  "He  is  busy  with  his  work  all 
day  long.  What  time  has  he  for — other  things?" 

"Exactly,  ma  chere!  One  would  not  expect  it  of  him. 
Duty  first — pleasure  afterwards,  is  doubtless  his  motto. 
Very  worthy — and  very  appropriate,  for  one  of  his  pro- 
fession. Unquestionably,  it  will  become  yours  also — in 
time." 

A  faint,  sad  smile  crossed  Juliet's  face.  She  made  no 
response,  and  in  a  moment  Saltash  bent  and  swept  up  Colum- 
bus under  his  arm. 

"Adieu,  sister  of  mercy!"  he  said  lightly.  "I  leave  you 
to  your  dreams." 

He  went  away  along  the  gallery,  and  she  entered  the  room 
and  shut  herself  in. 

For  a  second  or  two  she  stood  quite  motionless  in  the 


242  The  Obstacle  Race 

great  luxurious  apartment.  Then  slowly  she  went  forward 
to  the  wide-flung  window,  and  stood  there,  gazing  blankly 
forth  over  the  distant  fir-clad  park.  He  had  said  that  he 
would  see  her  again.  It  seemed  so  long  ago.  And  all 
through  this  difficult  time  of  strain  and  anxiety  he  had  done 
nothing — nothing.  She  did  not  realize  until  that  moment 
how  much  she  had  counted  upon  the  memory  of  those  last 
words  of  his. 

Ah  well !  Perhaps — as  Charles  Rex  hinted — it  was  better. 
Better  to  end  it  all  thus,  that  midsummer  madness  of  theirs 
that  had  already  endured  too  long!  They  had  lived  such 
widely  sundered  lives.  How  could  they  ever  have  hoped 
ultimately  to  bridge  the  gulf  between? 

Charles  was  right.  His  shrewd  perception  realized  that 
dwelling  as  they  did  in  separate  spheres  they  were  bound 
to  be  fundamentally  strangers  to  one  another.  Surely  Dick 
himself  had  foreseen  it  long  since  down  on  that  golden 
shore  when  first  he  had  sought  to  dissuade  her  from  going 
to  the  Court ! 

Her  heart  contracted  at  the  memory.  How  sweet  those 
early  days  had  been !  But  the  roses  had  faded,  the  nightin- 
gales had  ceased  to  sing.  It  was  all  over  now — all  over.  The 
dream  was  shattered,  and  she  was  weary  unto  death. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  SACRIFICE 

"I  EXPECT  it's  one  of  them  abscies  again,"  said  Mrs.  Rick- 
ett  sympathetically.  "Have  you  been  to  the  doctor  about 
it,  my  dear  ?" 

Robin,  sitting  heaped  in  the  wooden  arm-chair  in  her 
kitchen,  looked  at  her  with  a  smouldering  glow  in  his  eyes. 
"Don't  like  doctors,"  he  muttered. 

Mrs.  Rickett  sighed  and  went  on  with  her  ironing.  "No 
more  do  I,  Robin.  But  we  can't  always  do  without  'em. 
Have  you  told  your  brother  now  ?" 

Robin,  sullenly  rocking  himself  to  and  fro,  made  no  reply 
for  several  seconds.  Then  very  suddenly:  "He  asked  me 
if  I'd  got  a  headache  and  I  told  him  No,"  he  flung  out  de- 
fiantly. "What's  the  good  of  bothering  him?  He  can't  do 
anything." 

"The  doctor  might,  you  know,"  Mrs.  Rickett  ventured 
again,  with  a  glance  through  the  window  at  Freddy  who  had 
been  sent  out  to  amuse  himself  and  was  staggering  with 
much  perseverance  in  the  wake  of  an  elusive  chicken.  "It's 
wonderful  what  they  can  do  now-a-days  to  make  things 
better." 

"Don't  want  to  be  better,"  growled  Robin. 

243 


244  The  Obstacle  Race 

She  turned  and  looked  at  him  in  astonishment.  "You 
didn't  ought  to  say  that,  my  dear,"  she  said. 

Again  he  raised  his  heavy  eyes  to  hers  and  something  she 
saw  in  them — something  she  was  quite  at  a  loss  to  define — 
went  straight  to  her  heart. 

"Robin,  my  dear,  what's  the  matter  ?"  she  said.  "Is  there 
something  that's  troubling  you?" 

Again  Robin  was  silent  for  a  space.  His  eyes  fell  dully 
to  the  ground  between  his  feet.  At  last,  in  a  tone  of  muttered 
challenge,  he  spoke.  "Don't  want  it  to  get  better.  Want  it 
to  end." 

"Sakes  alive!"  said  Mrs.  Rickett,  shocked.  "You  don't 
know  what  you're  saying." 

He  did  not  contradict  her  or  lift  his  eyes  again,  merely 
sat  there  like  a  hunched  baboon,  his  head  on  his  chest,  his 
monstrous  body  slowly  rocking. 

There  followed  a  lengthy  silence.  Mrs.  Rickett  ironed 
and  folded,  ironed  and  folded,  with  a  practised  hand,  still 
keeping  an  eye  on  the  small  chicken-chaser  outside. 

After  several  minutes,  however,  the  boy's  utter  dejection 
of  attitude  moved  her  to  attempt  to  divert  his  thoughts.  '"'I 
wonder  when  our  young  lady  will  be  coming  to  see  us  again," 
she  said. 

Robin  uttered  a  queer  sound  in  his  throat;  it  was  almost 
like  the  moan  of  an  animal  in  pain.  He  said  nothing. 

She  gave  him  an  uneasy  glance,  but  still  kind-heartedly 
she  persevered  in  her  effort  to  lift  him  out  of  his  depression. 
"She  was  always  very  friendly-like,"  she  said.  "You  liked 
her,  didn't  you  Robin?" 

Robin  shifted  his  position  with  a   sharp  movement  as 


The  Sacrifice  245 

though  he  winced  at  some  sudden  dart  of  pain.  "What 
should  make  her  come  back?"  he  said.  "She'll  stay  away 
now  she's  gone." 

"Oh,  I  expect  we  shall  be  seeing  her  again  some  day,"  said 
Mrs.  Rickett,  "when  poor  Mrs.  Fielding  is  a  bit  stronger. 
She's  busy  now,  but  she'll  come  back,  you'll  see." 

Again  almost  violently  Robin  moved  in  his  chair.  "She 
won't!"  he  flung  out  in  a  fierce  undertone.  "Tell  you  she 
won't!" 

"How  can  you  possibly  know?"  reasoned  Mrs.  Rickett. 

"I  do  know,"  he  said  doggedly.  "She  won't  come  back, 
anyhow  not  till — "  his  utterance  trailed  off  into  an  unintel- 
ligible murmur  in  his  throat  and  he  became  silent. 

Mrs.  Rickett  shook  out  a  small  damp  garment,  and  spread 
it  upon  the  table  with  care.  "I  don't  see  how  anyone  is  to 
say  as  she  won't  come  back,"  she  said.  "Of  course  I  know 
she's  a  lady  born,  but  that  don't  prevent  her  making  friends 
among  humbler  folk.  She's  talked  of  this  place  more  than 
once  as  if  she'd  like  to  settle  here." 

"She  won't  then !"  growled  Robin.  "She'll  never  do  that, 
not  while — ."  Again  he  became  inarticulate,  muttering 
deeply  in  his  throat  like  an  animal  goaded  to  savagery. 

Mrs.  Rickett  turned  from  ker  ironing  to  regard  him.  She 
had  never  found  Robin  hard  to  understand  before,  but  there 
was  something  about  him  to-day  which  was  wholly  beyond  her 
comprehension.  He  was  like  some  wild  creature  that  had 
received  a  cruel  wound.  Dumb  resentment  and  fiery  suffer- 
ing seemed  to  mingle  in  his  half  uttered  sentences.  As  he 
sat  there  huddled  forward  with  his  hands  pathetically 
clenched  she  thought  she  had  never  seen  a  more  piteous  sight. 


246  The  Obstacle  Race 

"Lor',  Robin,  my  dear !"  she  said.  "What  ever  makes  you 
know  such  a  lot?  Why  shouldn't  she  come  back  then? 
Tell  me  that!" 

He  shook  his  shaggy  head,  but  more  in  protest  than  re- 
fusal. 

Mrs.  Rickett  bent  down  over  him,  her  kindly  red  face 
full  of  the  most  motherly  concern. 

"What's  troubling  you,  Robin?"  she  said.  "You  aren't— 
fretting  for  her,  are  you  ?" 

He  threw  her  one  of  his  wild  furtive  looks,  and  again  in 
his  eyes  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  something  that  deeply 
moved  her.  She  laid  a  comforting  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"Is  that  it,  lad?  Are  you  wanting  her?  Ah,  don't  fret 
then — don't  fret!  She'll  surely  come  back — some  day." 

The  boy's  face  quivered.  He  looked  down  at  his  clenched 
hands,  and  at  length  jerkily,  laboriously,  he  spoke,  giving 
difficult  and  bitter  utterance  to  the  trouble  that  gnawed  at 
his  heart. 

"It's — Dicky  that  wants  her.  But  she  won't  come — she 
won't  come — while  I'm  here."  A  sudden  hard  shiver  went 
through  him,  he  drew  his  breath  through  his  set  teeth,  with  a 
desperate  sound.  "No  woman  would,"  he  said  with  hard 
despair. 

And  then  abruptly,  as  if  with  speech  his  misery  had  be- 
come unendurable,  he  blundered  to  his  feet  with  outflung 
arms,  making  the  only  outcry  against  fate  that  his  poor 
stunted  brain  had  ever  accomplished.  "It  isn't  fair!"  he 
wailed.  "It  isn't  right!  I'm  going  to  God — to  tell  Him 
so!" 

He  turned  with  the  words,  the  impulse  of  the  stricken 


The  Sacrifice  247 

creature  urging  him,  and  ignoring  the  remonstrance  which 
Mrs.  Rickett  had  barely  begun  he  made  headlong  for  the 
door,  dragged  it  open,  and  was  gone. 

He  went  past  his  little  playmate  in  the  yard,  shambling 
blindly  for  the  open,  deaf  to  the  baby's  cry  of  welcome,  insen- 
sible to  everything  but  the  bitter  burden  of  his  pain.  He 
slammed  the  gate  behind  him  and  set  off  at  a  lumbering  run 
down  the  glaring  road. 

The  evening  sun  smote  full  in  his  face  as  he  went;  but  it 
might  have  been  midnight,  for  he  neither  saw  nor  felt.  In- 
stinct alone  guided  him — the  instinct  of  the  wild  creature, 
hunted  by  disaster,  wounded  to  the  heart,  that  must  be  alone 
with  its  agony  and  its  fruitless  strife  against  fate. 

He  went  up  the  cliff-path,  but  he  did  not  follow  it  far. 
Something  drew  him  down  the  narrow  cleft  that  led  to  the 
spot  where  first  he  had  seen  her  lying  on  the  shingle  dreaming 
with  her  head  upon  her  arm.  He  turned  off  the  path  to  the 
place  where  he  had  crouched  among  the  gorse-bushes  and 
flung  stones  to  scare  her  away,  and  stood  there  panting  and 
gazing. 

The  memory  of  her,  the  gracious  charm,  the  quick  sym- 
pathy, went  through  him,  pierced  him.  He  caught  his 
breath  as  though  he  listened  for  the  beloved  sound  of  her 
voice.  She  had  not  been  really  angry  with  him  for  the 
wantonness  of  those  stones.  She  had  been  very  ready  with 
her  forgiveness,  her  kindly  offer  of  friendship.  She  had 
never  been  other  than  kind  to  him  ever  since.  She  had 
awakened  in  him  the  deepest,  most  humble  gratitude  and  de- 
votion. She  had  even  once  or  twice  shielded  him  from 
Dicky's  never  unjust  wrath.  And  he  had  come  to  love  her 


248  The  Obstacle  Race 

second  only  to  Dicky  who  must  for  ever  hold  the  foremost 
place  in  his  heart. 

He  had  come  to  love  her — and  he  stood  between  her  and 
happiness.  He  did  not  reason  the  matter.  He  had  small 
reasoning  power.  He  recognized  that  Jack's  brain  was  supe- 
rior to  his,  and  Jack  had  made  known  to  him  this  monstrous 
thing.  True,  Dicky  had  denied  it,  but  somehow  that  denial 
had  not  been  so  convincing  as  Jack's  statement  had  been. 
The  corrosive  poison  had  already  done  its  work,  and  there 
was  no  antidote.  He  knew  that  Dicky  loved  Juliet,  knew 
it  from  his  own  lips.  "The  woman  I  love — the  woman  I 
love — "  How  often  had  the  low-spoken  words  recurred  to 
his  memory!  And  Dicky  was  not  happy.  He  had  watched 
him  narrowly  ever  since  that  night.  Dicky  was  not  really 
hopeful  for  the  winning  of  his  heart's  desire.  He  had  said 
there  were  many  obstacles.  What  they  were  Robin  could 
but  vaguely  conjecture — save  one !  And  that  one  stood  out 
in  the  darkness  of  his  soul,  clear  as  a  cross  against  the 
falling  night.  Dicky  had  no  chance  of  winning  any  woman 
so  long  as  he — the  village  idiot — the  hideous  abortion — stood 
in  his  way.  That  was  the  truth  as  he  saw  it — the  bitter, 
unavoidable  truth.  O  God,  it  wasn't  fair — it  wasn't  fair! 

The  evening  shadows  were  lengthening.  The  waves 
splashed  softly  against  the  fallen  rocks  forty  to  fifty  feet 
below.  They  seemed  to  be  calling  to  him.  It  was  almost  like 
a  summons  from  far  away — almost  like  a  bugle-call  heard 
in  the  mists  of  sleep.  Somehow  they  soothed  him,  lessening 
the  poignancy  of  his  anguish,  checking  his  wild  rebellion, 
making  him  aware  of  a  strangely  comforting  peace. 

As  if  God  had  spoken  and  stilled  his  inarticulate  protest, 


The  Sacrifice  249 

the  futile  agony  of  his  striving  died  down.  He  began  to  be 
conscious  vaguely  that  somewhere  within  his  reach  there  lay 
a  way  of  escape.  He  stared  out  over  the  silver-blue  of  the 
sea  with  strained  and  throbbing  vision.  The  sun  had  gone 
down  behind  High  Shale,  and  the  quiet  shadows  stretched 
towards  him.  He  had  the  feeling  of  a  hunted  man  who  has 
found  sanctuary.  Again,  more  calmly,  his  tired  brain  con- 
sidered the  problem  that  had  driven  him  forth  in  such  bit- 
terness of  soul. 

There  was  Dicky — Dicky  who  loved  him — whom  he 
worshipped.  Yes,  certainly  Dicky  loved  him.  He  had  never 
questioned  that.  He  was  the  only  person  in  the  world  who 
had  ever  wanted  him.  But  a  deeper  love,  a  deeper  want,  had 
entered  Dicky's  life  with  the  coming  of  Juliet.  He  wanted 
her  with  a  great  heart-longing  that  Robin  but  dimly  com- 
prehended but  of  which  he  was  keenly  conscious,  made  wise 
by  the  sympathy  that  linked  them.  He  knew — and  this 
without  any  bitterness — that  Dicky  wanted  Juliet  as  he  had 
never  wanted  him.  It  was  an  overmastering  yearning  in 
Dicky's  soul,  and  somehow — by  some  means — some  sacri- 
fice— it  must  be  satisfied.  Even  Dicky,  it  seemed,  would 
have  to  sacrifice  something;  for  he  could  not  have  them 
both. 

Yes,  something  would  have  to  be  sacrificed.  Somehow 
this  obstacle  must  be  cleared  out  of  Dicky's  path.  Juliet 
could  not  come  to  Dicky  while  he  was  there.  He  did  not 
ask  himself  why  this  should  be,  but  accepted  it  as  fact. 
He  then  was  the  main  obstacle  to  Dicky's  happiness,  to  the 
fulfilment  of  his  great  desire.  Then  he  must  go.  But 
whither  ?  And  leave  Dicky — and  leave  Dicky ! 


\ 

250  The  Obstacle  Race 

Again  for  a  spell  the  anguish  woke  within  him,  but  it 
did  not  possess  him  so  overwhelmingly  as  before.  He 
had  begun  to  seek  for  a  way  out,  and  though  it  was  hard 
to  find,  the  very  act  of  seeking  brought  him  comfort.  His 
own  misery  no  longer  occupied  the  forefront  of  his  poor 
groping  brain. 

He  sat  for  a  long,  long  time  up  there  on  the  cliff  while 
the  shadows  lengthened  and  the  day  slowly  died,  turning 
the  matter  over  and  over  while  the  flame  of  sacrifice  grad- 
ually kindled  in  the  darkness  of  his  soul. 

It  was  probably  the  growth  of  many  hours  of  not  too 
coherent  meditation — the  solution  of  that  problem;  but  it 
came  upon  him  very  suddenly  at  the  last,  almost  like  the 
swift  wheeling  of  a  flashlight  over  the  calm  night  sea. 

He  had  heard  the  church  clock  strike  in  the  distance,  and 
was  turning  to  leave  when  that  first  vision  of  Juliet  swooped 
back  upon  him — Juliet  in  her  light  linen  dress  springing  up 
the  path  towards  him.  He  saw  her  as  she  had  stood  there, 
leaving  the  path  behind  her,  poised  like  a  young  goddess 
against  the  dazzling  blue  of  the  spring  sky.  Her  face  had 
been  stern  at  first,  but  all  the  sternness  had  gone  into  an 
amazing  kindness  of  compassion  when  her  look  had  lighted 
upon  him.  She  had  not  shrunk  from  him  as  shrank  so 
many.  And  then — and  then — he  remembered  the  sudden 
fear,  the  sharp  anxiety,  that  had  succeeded  that  first  look 
of  pity. 

He  had  been  standing  on  the  brink  of  the  cliff  as  he  had 
stood  many  a  time  before — as  he  stood  now.  That  cliff 
had  been  the  tragedy  of  his  ruined  life.  And  yet  he  loved 
it,  had  never  known  any  fear  of  it.  But  she  had  been 


The  Sacrifice  251 

afraid  for  his  sake.  He  had  seen  the  fear  leap  into  her 
eyes.  And  the  memory  of  it  came  to  him  now  as  a  revela- 
tion. He  had  found  the  way  of  escape  at  last. 

The  sea  was  crooning  behind  him  over  the  half-buried 

» 

rocks.  He  stood  again  on  the  brink  with  his  poor  worn 
face  turned  to  the  sky.  He  had  come  to  the  end  of  his 
reasoning.  The  tired  brain  had  ceased  to  grapple  with  the 
cruel  problem  that  had  so  tortured  it.  He  knew  now  what 
he  would  do  to  help  Dicky.  And  somehow  the  doing  did 
not  seem  hard  to  him,  somehow  he  did  not  feel  afraid. 

One  step  back  and  the  cliff  fell  away  behind  him.  Yet 
for  a  space  he  went  neither  forward  nor  back.  It  was  as 
though  he  waited  for  a  word  of  command,  some  signal 
for  release.  The  first  star  was  gleaming  very  far  away 
like  a  lamp  lighted  in  a  distant  city.  His  eyes  found  it  and 
dwelt  upon  it  with  a  wistful  wonder.  He  had  always 
loved  the  stars. 

He  was  not  angry  or  troubled  any  more.  All  resentment, 
all  turmoil,  had  died  out  of  his  heart  for  ever.  That 
strange  peace  had  closed  about  him  again,  and  the  falling 
night  held  no  terrors.  Rather  it  seemed  to  spread  wings  of 
comfort  above  him.  And  always  the  crooning  of  the  sea 
was  like  a  voice  that  softly  called  him. 

It  came  very  suddenly  at  the  last — the  sign  for  which 
he  waited.  Someone  had  begun  to  mount  the  cliff-path,  and 
— though  he  was  out  of  sight — he  heard  a  low,  summon- 
ing whistle  in  the  darkness.  It  was  Dicky's  whistle.  He 
knew  it  well.  Dicky  was  coming  to  look  for  him. 

For  a  second  every  pulse — every  nerve — leaped  to  answer 
that  call.  For  a  second  he  stood  tense  while  that  surging 


252  The  Obstacle  Race 

power  within  him  sprang  upwards,  and  in  sheer  amazing 
fire  of  sacrifice  consumed  the  earthly  impulse. 

Then  it  was  over.  His  arms  went  wide  to  the  night. 
Without  a  cry,  without  a  tremor,  he  flung  himself  back- 
wards over  the  grassy  edge. 

The  crooning  sea  and  the  overhanging  cliff  muffled  the 
sound  of  his  fall.  And  no  one  heard  or  saw — save  God 
Who  seeth  all. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  MESSAGE 

the  day  that  Juliet  relinquished  her  perpetual  vigil, 
the  improvement  in  Vera  Fielding  was  almost  uninter- 
rupted. She  recovered  her  strength  very  slowly,  but  her 
progress  was  marked  by  a  happy  certainty  that  none  who  saw 
her  could  question.  She  still  leaned  upon  Juliet,  but  it  was 
her  husband  alone  who  could  call  that  deep  content  into 
her  eyes  which  was  gradually  finding  a  permanent  abiding- 
place  in  her  heart.  The  nearness  of  death  had  done  for  them 
what  no  circumstance  of  life  had  ever  accomplished.  They 
had  drawn  very  close  together  in  its  shadow,  and  as  they 
gradually  left  it  behind  the  tie  still  held  them  in  a  bond  that 
had  become  sacred  to  them  both.  It  was  as  if  they  had 
never  really  known  each  other  till  now. 

All  Vera's  arrogance  had  vanished  in  her  husband's 
presence,  just  as  his  curt  imperiousness  had  given  place  to 
the  winning  dominance  which  he  knew  so  well  how  to  wield. 
"You'll  do  it  for  me,"  was  one  of  his  pet  phrases,  and  he 
seldom  uttered  it  in  vain.  She  gave  him  the  joyful  sacri- 
fice of  love  newly-awakened. 

"I  wonder  if  we  shall  go  on  like  this  when  I'm  well  again," 
she  said  to  him  on  an  evening  of  rose-coloured  dusk  in  early 

253 


254  The  Obstacle  Race 

August  when  he  was  sitting  by  her  side  with  her  long  thin 
hand  in  his. 

"Like  what?"  said  Edward  Fielding. 

She  smiled  at  him  from  her  pillow.  "Well,  spoiling  each 
other  in  this  way.  Will  you  never  be  overbearing  and  dic- 
tatorial? Shall  I  never  be  furious  and  hateful  to  you 
again  ?" 

"I  hope  not,"  he  said.     "In  fact,  I  think  not." 

He  spoke  very  gravely.  She  stirred,  and  in  a  moment 
her  other  hand  came  out  to  him  also.  He  clasped  it  closely. 
Her  eyes  were  shining  softly  in  the  dusk. 

"You  are — so  good  to  me,  Edward — my  darling,"  she 
said. 

His  head  was  bent  over  her  hands.  "Don't !"  he  muttered 
huskily. 

Her  fingers  closed  on  his.  "Edward,  will  you  tell  me  some- 
thing?" she  whispered. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  but  I  want  you  to.  I'd  rather  hear  it  from  you. 
The  doctors  don't  think  I  shall  ever  be  fit  for  much  again, 
do  they?" 

She  spoke  steadily,  with  a  certain  insistence.  He  looked 
up  at  her  sharply,  with  something  of  a  glare  in  his  eyes. 

"You're  not  going  to  die — whatever  they  say!"  he  de- 
clared in  a  fierce  undertone. 

"No — no,  of  course  not!"  She  spoke  soothingly,  still 
smiling  at  him,  for  that  barely  checked  ferocity  of  his  sent 
rapture  through  her  soul.  "Do  you  suppose  I'd  be  such  an 
idiot  as  to  go  and  die  just  when  I'm  beginning  to  enjoy 
life?  I'm  not  the  puny  heroine  of  a  lachrymose  novel.  I 
hope  I've  got  more  sense.  No,  dear,  what  I  really  meant 
was — was — am  I  ever  going  to  be  strong  enough — woman 
enough — to  give  you — what  you  want  so  much?" 


The  Message  255 

"Vera — my  dear!"  He  leaned  swiftly  to  her,  his  arm 
pillowed  her  head.  "Do  you  suppose — do  you  really  sup- 
pose— I'd  let  you  jeopardize  your  sweet  life — after  this — 
after  this?" 

He  was  holding  her  closely  to  him,  and  though  a  little 
spasm  of  breathlessness  went  through  her  she  gave  herself 
to  him  with  a  pulsing  gladness  that  thrilled  her  whole  being. 
It  was  the  happiest  moment  she  had  ever  known. 

"Oh,  Edward,"  she  said,  "do  you — do  you  really  feel  like 
that?" 

His  cheek  was  against  her  forehead.  He  did  not  speak 
for  a  few  seconds.  Then,  with  something  of  an  effort, 
"Yes,"  he  said.  "It's  like  that  with  me  now,  my  dear.  I've 
been  through — a  good  deal — these  last  days.  Now  I've  got 
you  back — please  God  I'll  keep  you!" 

She  pressed  her  face  against  him.  "Ah,  but  Edward, 
you  know  you've  always  wanted " 

"Oh,  damn  my  wants !"  he  broke  in  impatiently.  "I  don't 
want  anything  but  you  now." 

She  raised  her  lips  to  kiss  his  neck.  "That's  the  loveliest 
thing  you  ever  said  to  me,  darling,"  she  said,  with  a  throb 
in  her  voice.  "I  love  being  an  invalid — with  you  to  spoil 
me.  But — if  you'll  promise — promise — promise — to  love  me 
quite  as  much — if  I  get  well,  I  will  get  well — really  well — 
for  your  sake." 

Again  she  was  panting.  He  felt  it  as  he  held  her, 
and  after  a  moment  or  two  very  tenderly  he  laid  her 
back. 

"God  bless  you,  my  dear!"  he  said.  "You  needn't  be 
afraid.  I've  learnt  my  lesson,  and  I  shan't  forget  it." 

"The  lessson  of  love!"  she  murmured,  holding  his  hand 
against  her  thumping  heart. 

"Yes.    Juliet  began  the  teaching.    A  wonderful  girl  that. 


256  The  Obstacle  Race 

She  seems  to  know  everything.  I  wonder  where  she  learnt 
it." 

"She  is  wonderful,"  Vera  agreed  thoughtfully.  "I  some- 
times think  she  has  had  a  hard  life.  She  says  so  little  about 
herself." 

"She  has  moved  among  a  fairly  rapid  lot,"  observed  the 
squire.  "Lord  Saltash  is  intimate  enough  to  call  her  by  her 
Christian  name." 

"Does  he  ever  talk  about  her?"  asked  Vera,  interested. 

"Not  much,"  said  the  squire. 

"You  think  he  is  fond  of  her  at  all  ?" 

"I  don't  know.  He  doesn't  see  much  of  her.  I  haven't 
quite  got  his  measure  yet.  He  isn't  the  sort  of  man  I  thought 
he  was  anyway." 

"Then  it  wasn't  true  about  Lady  Joanna  Farringmore  ?" 
questioned  Vera. 

Fielding  hesitated.  "I  don't  know,"  he  said  again.  "I  have 
a  suspicion  that  that  report  was  not  entirely  unfounded. 
But  however  that  may  be,  she  isn't  with  him  now." 

"You  don't  think  she  is— on  board  the  yacht?"  suggested 
Vera. 

"No,  I  don't.  The  yacht  is  being  done  up  for  a  voyage. 
A  beautiful  boat  from  all  accounts.  He  is  very  proud  of 
her.  I  am  to  go  over  her  with  him  one  of  these  days,  when 
she's  ready  which  will  be  soon." 

Vera  uttered  a  short  sigh.  "I  wish  we'd  get  a  yacht, 
Edward,"  she  said. 

"Do  you?  Why?"  He  was  looking  at  her  attentively,  a 
smile  in  his  eyes. 

She  coloured  faintly.  "I  don't  know.  It's  just  a  fancy, 
I  suppose — a  sick  fancy.  But  I  believe  I  could  get  well 
much  quicker  if  I  went  for  a  voyage  like  that." 

"You'd  be  bored  to  death,"  said  Fielding. 


The  Message  257 

She  looked  at  him  through  sudden  tears.  "Bored !  With 
you !"  she  said. 

He  patted  her  cheek  gently.  "Wouldn't  you  be  bored? 
Quite  sure  ?  Suppose  we  were  to  borrow  that  yacht,  do  you 
think  you'd  really  like  it?" 

Her  eyes  shone  through  the  tears.  "Of  course  I  should 
love  it !"  she  said.  "Is  there — is  there  any  chance  of  such  a 
thing?" 

"Every  chance,"  said  Fielding.  "Saltash  most  kindly 
placed  her,  with  the  captain  and  crew,  at  my  disposal  only 
last  night." 

"Oh,  Edward !  How  tremendously  kind  !"  She  looked  at 
him  with  an  eagerness  that  seemed  to  transform  her.  "But 
— but  would  you  like  it  too?  Wouldn't  you — wouldn't  you 
feel  it  was  an  awful  waste  of  time?" 

"Waste  of  time !    With  you !"  smiled  Fielding. 

She  lifted  his  hand  with  a  shy  movement  and  put  it  to  her 
lips.  "Edward — darling,  you  get  dearer  every  day,"  she 
murmured.  "What  makes  you  so  good  to  me  ?" 

He  leaned  down  and  kissed  her  forehead.  "I  happen  to 
have  found  out — quite  by  accident — that  I  love  you,  my 
dear,"  he  said. 

She  smiled  at  him.  "What  a  happy  accident !  Then  we 
are  really  going  for  that  voyage  together?  What  about — 
Juliet  ?" 

"Don't  you  want  Juliet?"  he  said. 

"Yes,  if  she  would  come.  But  I  have  a  feeling — I  don't 
know  why — that  she  will  not  be  with  us  very  long.  I  should 
be  sorry  to  part  with  her  for  we  owe  her  so  much.  But — 
somehow  she  doesn't  quite  fit,  does  she  ?  She  would  be  much 
more  suitable,  as — Lady  Saltash  for  instance." 

Fielding  laughed.  "Saltash  isn't  the  only  fish  in  the  sea," 
he  remarked. 


258  The  Obstacle  Race 

"You  are  thinking  of — Mr.  Green?"  she  questioned,  with 
slight  hesitation  before  the  name.  "You  know,  Edward — " 
she  broke  off. 

"Well,  my  dear?"  he  said. 

She  turned  to  him  impulsively.  "I'm  sorry  I've  not  been 
nicer  about  that  young  man.  I'm  going  to  try  and  like  him 
better,  just  to  please  you.  But,  Edward,  you  wouldn't  want 
Juliet  to  marry — that  sort  of  man?  You  don't,  do 
you?" 

Fielding  had  stiffened  almost  imperceptibly.  "It  doesn't 
much  matter  what  I  want,"  he  said,  after  a  moment.  "It 
doesn't  rest  with  me.  Neither  Dick  nor  Juliet  are  likely  to 
consult  my  feelings  in  the  matter." 

"I  don't  want  her  to  throw  herself  away — like  that,"  said 
Vera. 

"I  don't  think  you  need  be  afraid,"  he  said.  "Juliet  knows 
very  well  what  she  is  about.  And  Dick — well  Dick's  fool 
enough  to  sacrifice  the  heart  out  of  his  body  for  the  sake 
of  that  half-witted  boy." 

"How  odd  of  him!"  Vera  said.  "What  a  pity  Robin  ever 
lived  to  grow  up !" 

"He's  been  the  ruin  of  Dick's  life,"  the  squire  said  for- 
cibly. "He's  thrown  away  every  chance  he  ever  had  on 
account  of  Robin.  He  doesn't  fit — if  you  like.  He's  ab- 
solutely out  of  his  sphere  and  knows  it.  But  he'll  never 
change  it  while  that  boy  lives.  That's  the  infernal  part  of 
it.  Nothing  will  move  him."  He  stopped  himself  suddenly. 
"I  mustn't  excite  you,  my  dear,  and  this  is  a  subject  upon 
which  I  feel  very  strongly.  I  can't  expect  you  to  sympathize 
because — "  he  smiled  whimsically — "well,  mainly  because 
you  don't  understand.  We  had  better  talk  of  something 
else." 

Vera  was  looking  at  him  with  a  slight  frown  between  her 


The  Message  259 

eyes.  "I  didn't  mean  to  be — unsympathetic,"  she  said  a 
faint  quiver  in  her  voice. 

"Of  course  not!  Of  course  not!"  Hastily  he  sought  to 
make  amends.  "I  don't  know  how  we  got  on  the  subject. 
You  must  forgive  me,  my  dear.  I  believe  I  hear  Juliet  in  the 
conservatory.  We  won't  discuss  this  before  her." 

He  would  have  risen,  but  she  detained  him.  "Edward, 
just  a  moment,  I  want  to  ask  you  something." 

"Well  ?"    Reluctantly  he  paused. 

"I — only  want  to  know,"  she  spoke  with  some  effort, 
"what  there  is  about — Mr.  Green  that — that  makes  you  so 
fond  of  him." 

"Oh,  that!"  He  stood  hesitating.  But  there  were  cer- 
tainly footsteps  in  the  conservatory ;  he  heard  them  with  re- 
lief. "I'll  tell  you  some  other  time,  my  dear,"  he  said  gently. 
"Here  comes  Juliet  to  turn  me  out !" 

He  turned  to  the  window  as  she  entered  and  greeted  her 
with  a  smile.  Vera  was  still  clinging  to  his  hand. 

"May  I  come  in?"  said  Juliet,  stopping  on  the  threshold. 

"Yes,  of  course,  come  in!"  Vera  said.  "We  have  been 
talking  about  you,  Juliet.  Will  you  come  for  a  voyage  with 
us  in  Lord  Saltash's  yacht?" 

Juliet  came  slowly  forward.  Her  face  was  pale.  She 
was  holding  a  letter  in  her  hand.  She  looked  from  one  to 
the  other  for  a  second  or  two  in  silence. 

"Are  you  sure,"  she  said,  in  her  low  quiet  voice,  "that  you 
wouldn't  rather  go  alone?" 

"Not  unless  you  would  rather  not  come,"  said  the  squire. 
-"Thank  you,"  she  said.  "May  I— think  about  it?" 

The  squire  was  looking  at  her  attentively.  "What  is  the 
matter?"  he  said  suddenly. 

She  met  his  look  steadily,  though  he  felt  it  to  be  with  an 
effort.  Then  quietly  she  turned  to  Vera. 


260  The  Obstacle  Race 

"I  have  just  had  a  letter,"  she  said,  "from  a  friend  who 
is  in  trouble.  Do  you  think  you  can  spare  me — for  a  little 
while?" 

Vera  stretched  a  hand  to  her.  "My  dear  Juliet,  I  am  so 
sorry.  Of  course  you  shall  go.  What  is  it?  What  has 
happened  ?" 

Juliet  came  to  her,  took  and  held  the  hand.  "You  are 
very  kind,"  she  said.  "But  I  don't  want  you  to  be  troubled 
too.  There  is  no  need.  You  are  sure  you  will  be  all  right 
without  me?" 

"You  will  come  back  to  me?"  Vera  said. 

"I  will  certainly  come  back,"  Juliet  made  steadfast  answer, 
"even  if  I  can't  stay.  But  now  that  you  are  able  to  sit  up, 
you  will  need  me  less.  You  will  take  care  of  her,  Mr.  Field- 
ing ?"  looking  up  at  him. 

He  nodded.  "You  may  be  sure  of  that — the  utmost  care. 
When  must  you  go?" 

He  was  still  looking  at  her  closely ;  his  eyes  deeply  search- 
ing. 

Juliet  hesitated.    "Do  you  think — to-night?"  she  said. 

"Certainly.  Then  you  will  want  a  car.  Have  you  told 
Lord  Saltash?"  He  turned  to  the  door. 

"No,  I  have  only  just  heard.  I  believe  he  has  gone  to 
town."  Juliet  gently  laid  down  the  hand  she  was  holding. 
"I  will  come  back,"  she  said  again,  and  followed  him. 

He  drew  the  door  closed  behind  them.  They  faced  each 
other  in  the  dimness  of  the  hall.  The  squire's  mouth  was 
twitching  uncontrollably.  "Now,  Juliet !"  His  voice  had  a 
ring  of  sternness ;  he  put  his  hand  on  her  shoulder,  gripping 
unconsciously.  "For  heaven's  sake — "  he  said — "out  with 
it!  It  isn't— Dick?" 

"No— Robin !"  she  said. 

"Ah!"    He  drew  a  deep  breath  and  straightened  himself, 


The  Message  261 

his  other  hand  over  his  eyes.  Then  in  a  moment  he  was 
looking  at  her  again.  His  grip  relaxed.  "Forgive  me!"  he 
said.  "Did  I  hurt  you  ?" 

She  gave  him  a  faint  smile.  "It  doesn't  matter.  You 
understand,  don't  you?  I  must  go — to  Dick." 

He  nodded.    "Yes — yes!    Is  the  boy — dead?" 

"No.  It  was  a  fall  over  the  cliff.  It  happened  last  night. 
They  didn't  find  him  for  hours.  He  is  going  fast.  Jack 
brought  me  this."  She  glanced  down  at  the  letter  in  her 
hand. 

He  made  a  half -gesture  to  take  it,  checking  himself 
sharply.  "I  beg  your  pardon,  Juliet,  I  hardly  know  what 
I'm  doing.  It's  from  Dick,  is  it?" 

Very  quietly  she  gave  it  to  him.  "You  may  read  it.  You 
have  a  right  to  know,"  she  said. 

He  gave  her  an  odd  look.    "May  I  ?    Are  you  sure  ?" 

"Read  it!"  she  said. 

He  opened  it.  His  fingers  were  trembling.  She  stood  at 
his  shoulder  and  read  it  with  him.  The  words  were  few, 
containing  the  bald  statement,  but  no  summons. 

The  squire  read  them,  breathing  heavily.  Suddenly  he 
thrust  his  arm  round  Juliet  and  held  her  fast. 

"Juliet !    You'll  be  good  to  my  boy — good  to  Dick  ?" 

Her  eyes  met  his.  "That  is  why  I  am  going  to  him,"  she 
said.  She  took  the  note  and  folded  it,  standing  within  the 
circle  of  his  arm. 

"I'd  go  to  him  myself — if  I  could,"  Fielding  went  on  un- 
evenly. "He'll  feel  this— damnably.  He  was  simply  de- 
voted to  that  unfortunate  boy." 

"I  know,"  said  Juliet. 

Again  he  put  his  hand  to  his  eyes.  "I've  been  a  beast 
about  Robin.  Ask  him  to  forgive  me,  Juliet!  Tell  him  I'm 
awfully  sorry,  that  I'll  come  as  soon  as  I  can  get  away. 


262  The  Obstacle  Race 

And  if  there's  anything  he  wants — anything  under  the  sun — 
he's  to  have  it.  See  ?  Make  him  understand !" 

"He  will  understand,"  Juliet  said  quietly. 

He  looked  at  her  again.  "Don't  let  him  fret,  Juliet!" 
he  said  urgently.  "You'll  comfort  him,  won't  you  ?  I  know 
I'm  always  rating  him,  but  he's  such  a  good  chap.  You — 
you  love  him,  don't  you?" 

"Yes,"  she  said. 

"God  bless  you  for  that!"  he  said  earnestly.  "I  can't 
tell  you  what  he  is  to  me — can't  explain.  But — but " 

"I — understand,"  she  said 

"What?"  He  stared  at  her  for  a  moment.  "What — do 
you  understand?" 

"I  know  what  he  is  to  you,"  she  said  gently.  "I  have 
known — for  a  long  time.  Never  mind  how!  Nobody  told 
me.  It  just  came  to  me  one  day." 

"Ah!"  Impulsively  he  broke  in.  "You  see  everything. 
I'm  afraid  of  you,  Juliet.  But  look  here !  You  won't — you 
won't — make  him  suffer — for  my  sins  ?" 

Her  hand  pre::ci  his  arm.  "What  am  I?"  she  said. 
"Have  I  any  right  to  judge  anyone?  Besides — oh,  besides 
—do  you  think  I  could  possibly  go  to  him  if  I  did  not  feel 
that  nothing  on  earth  matters  now — except  our  love  ?" 

She  spoke  with  deep  emotion.  She  was  quivering  from 
head  to  foot.  He  bent  very  low  to  kiss  the  hand  upon  his 
arm. 

"And  you  will  have  your  reward,"  he  said  huskily.  "Don't 
forget — it's  the  only  thing  in  life  that  really  counts !  There's 
nothing  else — nothing  else." 

Juliet  stood  quite  still  looking  down  at  the  bent  grey  head. 
"I  wonder,"  she  said  slowly,  "I  wonder — if  Dick — in  his 
heart —  thinks  the  same !" 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE   ANSWER 

THE  August  dusk  had  deepened  into  night  when  the  open 
car  from  the  Court  pulled  up  at  the  schoolhouse  gate.  The 
school  had  closed  for  the  summer  holidays  a  day  or  two 
before.  No  lights  shone  in  either  building. 

"Do  you  mind  going  in  alone  ?"  whispered  Jack.  "I  can't 
show  here.  But  I'll  wait  inside  the  park-gates  to  take  you 
back." 

"You  needn't  wait,"  Juliet  said.  "I  shall  spend  the  night 
at  the  Court — unless  I  am  wanted  here." 

She  descended  with  the  words.  She  had  never  liked  Jack 
Green,  and  she  was  thankful  that  the  rapid  journey  was 
over.  She  heard  him  shoot  up  the  drive  as  she  went  up  the 
schoolhouse  path. 

In  the  dark  little  porch  she  hesitated.  The  silence  was 
intense.  Then,  as  she  stood  in  uncertainty,  from  across  the 
bare  playground  there  came  a  call. 

"Juliet !" 

She  turned  swiftly.  He  was  standing  in  the  dark  door- 
way of  the  school.  The  vague  light  of  the  rising  moon 
gleamed  deathly  on  his  face.  He  did  not  move  to  meet  her. 

She  went  to  him,  reached  out  hands  to  him  that  he  did 
not  take,  and  clasped  him  by  the  shoulders.  "Oh,  you  poor 
boy!" 

263 


264  The  Obstacle  Race 

His  arms  held  her  close  for  a  moment  or  two,  then  they 
relaxed. 

"I  don't  know  why  I  sent  for  you,"  he  said. 

"You  didn't  send  for  me,  Dick,"  she  made  gentle  answer. 
"But  I  think  you  wanted  me  all  the  same." 

He  groaned.  "Wanted  you !  I've— craved  for  you.  You 
told  the  squire?" 

"Yes.    He  said " 

He  broke  in  upon  her  with  fierce  bitterness.  "He  was 
pleased  of  course!  I  knew  he  would  be.  That's  why  I 
couldn't  send  the  message  to  him.  It  had  to  be  you." 

"Dick !  Dick !  He  wasn't  pleased !  You  don't  know  what 
you're  saying.  He  was  most  terribly  sorry."  She  put  her 
arm  through  his  with  a  very  tender  gesture.  "Won't  you 
take  me  inside  and  tell  me  all  about  it  ?"  she  said. 

He  gave  a  hard  shudder.  "I  don't  know  if  I  can,  Juliet. 
It's  been — so  awful.  He  suffered — so  infernally.  The  doc- 
tor didn't  want  to  give  him  morphia — said  it  would  hasten 
the  end."  He  stamped  in  a  sort  of  impotent  frenzy.  "I 
stood  over  him  and  made  him.  It  was  just  what  I  wanted 
to  do.  It  was — it  was — beyond  endurance." 

"Oh,  my  dear !"  she  said. 

He  put  his  hands  over  his  face.  "Juliet, — it  was — hell !" 
he  said  brokenly.  "When  I  wrote  that  note  to  you — I 
thought  the  worst  was  over.  But  it  wasn't — it  wasn't !  He 
was  past  speaking — but  his  eyes — they  kept  imploring  me 
to  let  him  go. — O  God,  I'd  given  my  soul  to  help  him !  And 
I  could  do — nothing  except  see  him  die!" 

Again  a  convulsive  shudder  caught  him.  Juliet's  arms 
went  around  him.  She  held  his  head  against  her  bneast. 

"It's  over  now,"  she  whispered.    "Thank  God  for  that !" 

He  leaned  upon  her  for  a  space.  "Yes,  it's  over.  At 
least  he  died  in  peace,"  he  said,  and  drew  a  hard,  quivering 


The  Answer  265 

breath.  Then  he  stood  up  again.  "Juliet,  I'm  so  sorry. 
Come  inside!  I'll  light  the  lamp.  I  couldn't  stand  that 
empty  house — with  only  my  boy's  dead  body  in  it.  Mrs. 
Rickett  has  been  there,  but  she's  gone  now."  He  turned  and 
pushed  open  the  door.  "Wait  a  minute  while  I  light  up !" 

She  did  not  wait,  but  followed  him  closely,  and  stood 
beside  him  while  he  lighted  a  lamp  on  the  wall.  He  turned 
from  doing  so  and  smiled  at  her,  and  she  saw  that  though 
his  face  was  ghastly,  he  was  his  own  master  again. 

"How  did  you  get  here?"  he  said.  "Who  took  the  note? 
The  doctor  promised  to  get  it  delivered." 

"Jack  brought  it,"  she  said.    "I  came  back  with  him." 

"Jack!"  His  brows  drew  together  suddenly.  She  saw 
his  black  eyes  gleam.  For  a  moment  he  said  nothing  further. 
Then:  "If — Jack  comes  anywhere  near  me  to-night,  I  shall 
kill  him !"  he  said  very  quietly. 

"Dick!"  she  said  in  amazement. 

There  was  a  certain  awful  intentness  in  his  look.  "I 
hold  him  responsible  for  this,"  he  said. 

She  gazed  at  him,  assailed  by  a  swift  wonder  as  to  his 
sanity. 

In  a  second  he  saw  the  doubt  and  replied  to  it,  still  with 
that  deadly  quietness  that  seemed  to  her  more  terrible  than 
violence.  "I  know  what  I  am  saying.  He  is — directly  re- 
sponsible. My  boy  died  for  my  sake,  because  he  believed 
;what  Jack  told  him — that  no  woman  would  ever  consent  to 
marry  me  while  he  lived." 

"Oh,  Dick!  You  don't  mean — he  did  it— on  purpose!" 
Juliet's  voice  was  quick  with  pain.  "Dick,  surely — surely — 
it  wasn't  that !  You  are  making  a  mistake !" 

"No.  It  is  no  mistake,"  he  said,  with  sombre  conviction. 
"I  know  it.  Mrs.  Rickett  knows  it  too.  It's  been  preying 
on  his  mind  ever  since.  He  hasn't  been  well.  He's  suf- 


266  The  Obstacle  Race 

fered  with  "his  head  a  good  deal  lately.  He — "  He  stopped 
himself.  "There  's  no  need  to  distress  you  over  this.  Thank 
you  for  coming.  I  didn't  really  expect  you.  Is  he — is  Jack — 
waiting  to  take  you  back  ?" 

"No,"  said  Juliet  quietly. 

His  brows  went  up.  "You  are  sleeping  at  the  Court? 
I'll  take  you  there." 

"I'm  not  going  yet,  Dick,"  she  said  gently,  "unless  you 
turn  me  out." 

His  face  quivered  unexpectedly.  He  turned  from  her. 
"There's — nothing  to  wait  for,"  he  said. 

But  Juliet  stood  motionless.  Her  eyes  went  down  the 
long  bare  room  with  its  empty  forms  and  ink-splashed  desks. 
She  thought  it  the  most  desolate  place  she  had  ever  seen. 

After  an  interval  of  blank  silence  Dick  spoke  again. 
"Don't  you  stay!  I'm  not  myself  to-night.  I  can't — think. 
It  was  awfully  good  of  you  to  come.  But  don't — stay!" 

"Dick!"  she  said. 

At  sound  of  her  voice  he  turned.  His  eyes  looked  at  her 
out  of  such  a  depth  of  misery  as  pierced  her  to  the  heart. 
She  saw  his  hands  clench  against  his  sides.  "O  my  God !" 
he  said  under  his  breath. 

"Dick!"  she  said  again  very  earnestly.  "Don't  send  me 
away !  Let  me  help  you !" 

"You  can't,"  he  said.  "You've  been  too  good  to  me — 
already." 

"You  wouldn't  say  that  to  me  if  I  were — your  wife,"  she 
said. 

He  flinched  sharply.  "Juliet!  Don't  torture  me!  I've 
had —  as  much  as  I  can  stand  to-night." 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  him  with  a  gesture  superbly 
simple.  "My  dear,  I  will  marrry  you  to-morrow  if  you  will 
have  me,"  she  said. 


The  Answer  267 

He  stood  for  a  long  second  staring  at  her.  Then  she  saw 
his  face  change  and  harden.  The  ascetic  look  that  she  had 
noticed  long  ago  came  over  it  like  a  mask. 

"No !"  he  said.    "No !" 

Again  he  turned  from  her.  He  went  away  up  the  long 
room,  the  bare  boards  echoing  to  the  tramp  of  his  feet  with 
a  dull  and  hopeless  sound.  He  came  to  a  stand  before  the 
writing-table  at  the  further  end,  and  from  there  he  spoke  to 
her,  his  words  brief,  as  it  were  edged  with  steel. 

"Can  you  imagine  how  Cain  felt  when  he  said  that  his 
punishment  was  greater  than  he  could  bear?  That's  how 
I  feel  to-night.  I  am  like  Cain.  Whatever  I  touch  is 
cursed." 

The  words  startled  her.  Again  for  a  second  she  won- 
dered if  the  suffering  through  which  he  had  passed  had 
affected  his  brain.  But  she  felt  no  fear.  She  kept  her  pur- 
pose before  her,  clear  and  steadfast  as  a  beacon  shining 
in  the  dark. 

"You  are  not  like  Cain,"  she  said.  "And  even  if  you 
were,  do  you  think  I  should  love  you  any  the  less  ?" 

He  made  a  desperate  gesture.  "Would  you  love  me  if 
I  were  a  murderer  ?"  he  said. 

"I  love  you — whatever  you  are,"  she  made  unfaltering 
reply. 

He  turned  upon  her,  almost  like  an  animal  at  bay.  "I 
am — a  murderer,  Juliet !"  he  said,  a  terrible  fire  in  his  eyes. 

In  spite  of  herself  she  flinched,  so  awful  was  his  look. 
"Dick,  what  do  you  mean?" 

He  flung  out  a  hand  as  if  to  keep  her  from  him  though  she 
had  not  moved.  "I  will  tell  you  what  I  mean,  and  then — 
you  will  go.  On  the  night  Robin  was  born, — I  killed  his 
father!" 

"Dick  I"  she  said. 


268  The  Obstacle  Race 

He  went  on  rapidly.  "I  was  a  boy  at  the  time,  but  I  had 
a  man's  purpose.  My  mother  was  dying.  They  sent  me 
to  fetch  him.  I  loathed  the  man.  So  did  she.  He  was  at 
The  Three  Tuns — drinking.  I  hung  about  till  he  came  out. 
He  was  blind  drunk,  and  the  night  was  dark.  He  took  the 
wrong  path  that  led  to  the  cliff,  and  I  let  him  go.  In  the 
morning  they  found  him  on  the  rocks,  dead.  I  might  have 
saved  him.  I  didn't.  I  went  back  to  my  mother,  and  stayed 
with  her — till  she  died." 

"Oh  Dick — my  dear!"  she  said. 

He  stood  stiffly  facing  her.  "I  never  repented.  I'd  do 
the  same  again  now — or  worse,  to  such  a  man  as  that.  He 
was  a  brute  beast.  But — I  suppose  God  doesn't  allow  these 
things.  Anyway,  I've  been  punished — pretty  heavily.  I  got 
fond  of  the  boy.  He  was  the  only  thing  left  to  care  for. 
He  took  the  place  of  everything  else.  And  now — because  of 
a  damnable  lie — "  Something  seemed  to  rise  in  his  throat, 
he  paused,  struggling  with  himself,  finally  went  on  jerkily, 
with  difficulty.  "One  more  thing — you'd  better  know.  It'll 
help  you  to — forget  me.  The  man  I  killed  was  not  my  own 
father — except  in  name.  My  mother  refused  to  marrry 
the  man  she  loved  because  she  thought  it  would  injure  his 
career — his  people  threatened  to  disown  him.  She  gave  her- 
self instead  to — the  scoundrel  whose  name  I  bear — just  to 
set  him  free." 

Again  he  stopped.  Juliet  had  moved.  She  was  coming  up 
the  long  room  to  him,  not  quickly,  but  with  purpose.  He 
stood,  still  facing  her,  his  breathing  short  and  hard. 

Quietly,  with  that  regal  bearing  that  was  so  supremely  her 
own,  she  drew  near.  And  her  eyes  were  shining  with  a  light 
that  made  her  beautiful.  She  reached  him  and  stood  be- 
fore him. 

"Dick,"  she  said,  "I  am  not  like  your  mother.    I've  been 


The  Answer  269 

fighting  against  it,  but  it's  too  strong  for  me.  I  have  got 
to  marry — the  man  I  love." 

He  made  an  impotent  gesture,  and  she  saw  that  he  was 
trembling. 

She  stood  a  moment,  then  reached  out,  took  his  arms,  and 
drew  them  gently  round  her.  "Are  you  still  trying  to  send 
me  away?"  she  said.  "Because — it's  stronger  than  both  of 
us,  Dick — and  I'm  not  going — I'm  not  going!" 

He  looked  into  the  shining,  steadfast  eyes,  and  suddenly 
the  desperate  strain  was  over.  His  resistance  snapped.  "God 
forgive  me,"  he  said  under  his  breath  and  caught  her  pas- 
sionately close. 

There  was  that  in  his  hold — perhaps  because  of  the  fulness 
of  her  surrender — that  had  never  been  before. — something 
flaming,  something  fiercely  electric,  in  his  swift  acceptance 
of  her.  As  he  clasped  her,  she  felt  the  wild  throbbing  of 
his  heart  like  the  pulsing  force  of  a  racing  engine.  He 
kissed  her,  and  in  his  kiss  there  was  more  than  the  lover's 
adoration.  It  held  the  demand  and  mastery  of  matehood. 
By  it  he  claimed  and  sealed  her  for  his  own. 

When  his  hold  relaxed,  she  made  no  effort  to  withdraw 
herself.  She  leaned  against  him  gasping  a  little,  but  her 
eyes — with  the  glory  yet  shining  in  them — were  still  raised 
to  his. 

"So  that's  settled,  is  it?"  she  said,  with  a  quivering  smile. 
"You  are  quite  sure,  Dick?" 

His  hands  were  clasped  behind  her.  His  look  had  a  cer- 
tain burning  quality  as  if  he  challenged  all  the  world  for 
her  possession. 

"What  am  I  to  say  to  you,  Juliet  ?"  he  said,  his  words  low, 
deeply  vibrant.  "I  can't  deny — my  other  self — can  I  ?" 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said.  "You  were  very  near  it,  weren't 
you?  I  thought  you  had — all  these  weeks." 


270  The  Obstacle  Race 

"Ah!"  His  brows  contracted.  "Will  you  forgive  me, 
Juliet?  I've  had — an  infernal  time." 

"Yes.    I  know,"  she  said  gently. 

"No,  dear,  you  don't  know.  How  could  you  ?  Your  life 
hasn't  been  one  perpetual  struggle  against  overwhelming 
odds  like  mine."  He  paused.  "Look  here,  darling!  I'm 
rather  a  fool  to-night.  I  can't  explain  things.  But  you've 
been  very  wonderful  to  me.  You've  lighted  a  torch  in  the 
dark.  I  kept  away  because — it  didn't  seem  fair  to  you  to  do 
anything  else.  You  were  back  in  your  own  inner  circle,  and 
I  was  miles  outside.  And  you  never  wanted  to  be  bound. 
When  I  saw  you  with — Lord  Saltash — I  knew  why." 

"My  dear !"  she  said.  "You  didn't  imagine  I  was  in  love 
with  Saltash  surely!" 

"No — no!"  he  said.  "I  knew  you  weren't.  And  yet — 
somehow — I  felt  you  were  nearer  to  his  world  than  mine. 
I  realized  it  more  and  more  as  the  days  went  on.  And  my 
boy  was  ill — I  couldn't  leave  him.  Juliet — "  a  hint  of  en- 
treaty crept  into  his  voice — "I  can't  explain.  But  somehow 
here  on  my  own  ground  it's — different.  I  feel  you  belong 
to  me  here.  I  know  I  can  win  and  hold  you.  But  there — 
there — you  are — leagues  and  leagues  above  me — far  out  of 
reach." 

"Oh,  Dick!"  she  said.  "I  thought  you  had  more  sense! 
Don't  you  realize — yet — that  your  world  is  the  world  I  want 
to  be  in?  I  want  to  forget  that  other  world — just  to  blot 
it  out  of  my  life — if  only  you  will  make  that  possible." 

"If  I  will!"  he  said,  with  a  deep  breath.  And  then  sud- 
denly he  took  her  face  between  his  hands,  looking  closely 
into  her  eyes.  "Don't  you  care  about — all  the  horrible  things 
I've  told  you?"  he  said.  "Does  it  make  no  difference  at  all 
to  you?" 

She  was  still  smiling — a  tremendous  smile.     "It  doesn't 


The  Answer  271 

seem  much  like  it,  does  it?"  she  said.  "I'm  not  such  a  saint 
myself,  Dick.  Moreover,  I  knew  about — some  things — be- 
fore I  came." 

"What  things?"  he  said. 

She  made  a  very  winning  gesture  towards  him.  "Don't 
think  me  a  Paul  Pry,  dear !  But  I  couldn't  help  knowing — 
ages  ago — what  made  the  squire — so  fond  of  you." 

"Juliet !"  He  gazed  at  her.  "How  on  earth  did  you  find 
out?" 

She  coloured  deeply  under  his  look.  "You — are  rather 
alike — in  some  ways,"  she  said.  "It  was  partly  that  and 
partly  being — well,  rather  interested  in  you,  I  suppose.  And 
Mrs.  Rickett  told  me  as  much  of  your  family  history  as  she 
knew  before  I  ever  met  you.  So,  you  see,  I  didn't  have 
much  to  fill  in." 

"And  still  it  makes  no  difference  ?"  he  said. 

She  shook  her  head.  "None  whatever.  I'm  just  glad 
for  your  sake  that  the  man  you  hated  so  was  not  your  father. 
But  I  think  you  go  rather  far,  Dick,  when  you  say  you  killed 
him." 

The  hard  onyx  glitter  shone  again  in  his  eyes.  "No,  it 
was  not  an  exaggeration,"  he  said.  "I  was  a  murderer  that 
night.  I  meant  him  to  go  to  his  death.  When  he  was  dead 
I  was  glad.  He  had  tortured  the  only  being  I  loved  on 
earth.  I  believed  he  was  my  father  for  quite  a  long  time 
after — till  the  squire  came  home,  and  I  told  him  the  whole 
story.  Then — in  an  impulsive  moment — he  told  me  the  truth. 
He  cared  about  my  mother's  death — cared  badly.  They 
would  have  been  married  by  that  time  if  her  husband  hadn't 
turned  up  again.  It  was  two  lives  spoilt." 

"And  what  about  yours  ?"  she  said. 

"Mine!"  He  smiled  rather  bitterly.  "Well,  I've  never 
expected  much  of  life.  I've  stuck  to  my  independence  and 


272  The  Obstacle  Race 

been  satisfied  with  that.  He'd  have  bossed  my  destiny  if  I'd 
have  let  him.  But  I  wouldn't.  I  was  cussed  on  that  point, 
though  if  it  hadn't  been  for  Robin,  I  shouldn't  have  bothered. 
I  stayed  on  here  for  the  boy's  sake.  He  wouldn't  have  been 
happy  anywhere  else.  Well,"  he  uttered  a  weary  sigh,  "that 
chapter's  closed." 

She  pressed  his  arm.  "Dick,  we  might  never  have  met 
but  for  that." 

"Oh,  we  might  have  met,"  he  said.  "But — you'd  probably 
have  detested  me — under  any  other  circumstances." 

She  smiled  at  him  with  a  touch  of  wistfulness.  "And  you 
me,  Dick.  Neither  of  us  would  have  looked  below  the  sur- 
face if  we'd  met  in  the  general  hurly-burly.  We  shouldn't 
have  had  time.  So  we  have  a  good  deal  to  be  thankful  for, 
haven't  we?" 

He  drew  her  to  him  again.  The  desperate  misery  had 
passed  from  his  face,  but  he  looked  worn  out.  "What  on 
earth  should  I  do  without  you  ?"  he  said. 

"I  don't  know,  dear,"  she  answered  tenderly.  "I  hope  you 
are  not  going  to  try  any  longer,  are  you  ?" 

His  lips  were  near  her  own.  "Juliet,  will  you  stay — within 
reach — till  after  the  funeral?" 

"Yes,"  she  breathed. 

"And  then — then — will  you — marry  me?"  His  whisper 
was  even  lower  than  hers.  The  man's  whole  being  pulsed 
in  the  words. 

Her  arms  went  round  his  neck.    "I  will,  dearest." 

His  breath  came  quickly.  "And  if — if — later — you  come 
upon  some  things  that  hurt  you — things  you  don't  under- 
stand— will  you  remember  how  I've  been  handicapped — and 
— forgive  me?" 

Her  eyes  looked  straight  up  to  his.  They  held  a  shadowy 
smile.  "Dick, — I  was  just  going — to  say  that — to  you!" 


The  Answer  273 

He  pressed  her  to  his  heart.  "Ah,  my  Juliet!"  he  said. 
"Could  anything  matter  to  us — anything  on  earth — except 
our  love  ?" 

In  the  deep  silence  her  lips  answered  his.  There  was  no 
further  need  for  words. 


PART  IV 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  FREE  GIFT 

"I'M  not  quite  sure  that  I  call  this  fair  play,"  said  Sal- 
tash  with  a  comical  twist  of  the  eyebrows.  "I  didn't  expect 
all  these  developments  in  so  short  a  time." 

"There  are  no  further  rules  to  this  game,"  said  Juliet, 
squeezing  Columbus  around  his  sturdy  shoulders  as  he  sat 
on  the  bench  beside  her.  "Whoever  wins — or  loses — no  one 
has  any  right  to  complain." 

She  spoke  without  agitation,  but  her  face  was  flushed, 
and  there  was  something  about  the  clasp  of  her  arm  that 
made  Columbus  look  up  with  earnest  affection. 

"If  that's  so,"  said  Saltash,  "I  can  withdraw  my  protec- 
tion without  compunction." 

She  smiled.  "No  doubt  you  can,  most  puissant  Rex! 
But  it  really  wouldn't  answer  your  purpose.  You've  nothing 
to  gain  by  treachery  to  a  friend,  and  it  would  give  you  a 
horrid  taste  afterwards." 

He  made  a  face  at  her.  "That's  your  point  of  view. 
And  what  am  I  to  say  when  I  meet  Muff  and  all  the  rest  of 
the  clan  again?" 

She  gave  a  slight  shrug.  "Do  you  think  it  matters? 
They  are  much  too  busy  chasing  after  their  own  affairs  to 

274 


The  Free  Gift  275 

give  me  a  second  thought.  If  I  were  Lady  Jo,  they  might 
be  interested — for  half-an-hour — not  a  minute  longer." 

Saltash  made  a  mocking  sound.  "I  know  one  person 
whose  interest  would  last  a  bit  longer  than  that — if  you 
were  Lady  Jo." 

"Indeed?"  said  Juliet. 

"Yes — indeed,  ma  Juliette!  I  met  him  the  other  day  at 
the  Club  before  I  went  North,  and  it  may  interest  you  to 
know  that  he  is  determined  to  find  her — and  marry  her — or 
perish  in  the  attempt." 

"It  doesn't  interest  me  in  the  least,"  said  Juliet. 

"No  ?  Hard-hearted  as  ever !"  Saltash's  grin  was  one  of 
sheer  mischief.  "Well,  he  seemed  to  share  the  popular  be- 
lief that  I  know  where  the  elusive  Lady  Jo  is  to  be  found. 
I  really  can't  think  what  I've  done  to  deserve  such  a  repu- 
tation. I  was  put  through  a  pretty  stiff  cross-examination, 
I  can  tell  you." 

"I  have  no  doubt  you  were  more  than  equal  to  it,"  said 
Juliet. 

Saltash  broke  into  a  laugh.  "It  was  such  a  skilful  fencing- 
match  that  I  imagine  we  left  off  much  as  we  began.  But  I 
don't  flatter  myself  that  I  am  cleared  of  suspicion.  In  fact 
it  wouldn't  surprise  me  at  all  to  find  I  was  being  shadowed — 
not  for  the  first  time  in  my  disreputable  career." 

"I  wonder  when  you  will  marry  and  turn  respectable," 
said  Juliet. 

He  made  an  appalling  grimace.  "Follow  your  pious  ex- 
ample? May  heaven  forbid!" 

She  looked  at  him,  faintly  smiling.  "Wait  till  the  real 
thing  comes  to  you,  Charles  Rex!  You  won't  feel  so  su- 
perior then." 

"Do  you  know  how  old  I  am  ?"  said  Saltash. 

"Thirty-five,"  said  Juliet  idly. 


276  The  Obstacle  Race 

Again  his  brows  went  up.  "How  on  earth  do  you  know 
these  things  off-hand?" 

Her  grey  eyes  were  quizzical.  "You  are  quite  young 
enough  yet  to  be  happy — if  only  the  right  woman  turns  up." 

He  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  his  hands  behind  his  head, 
and  contemplated  her  with  a  criticism  that  lasted  several 
seconds.  His  dark  face  wore  its  funny,  monkeyish  look  of 
regret,  half-wistful  and  half-feigned. 

"I  wish — "  he  said  suddenly — "I  wish  I'd  come  down  here 
when  you  first  began  to  rusticate." 

"Why?"  said  Juliet,  with  her  level  eyes  upon  him. 

He  laughed  and  sprang  abruptly  to  his  feet.  "Quien 
sabef  I  might  have  turned  rustic  too — pious  also,  my 
Juliette!  Think  of  it!  Life  isn't  fair  to  me.  Why  am  I 
condemned  always  to  ride  the  desert  alone?" 

"Mainly  because  you  ride  too  hard,"  said  Juliet.  "None 
but  you  can  keep  up  the  pace.  Ah !"  She  turned  her  head 
quickly,  and  the  swift  colour  flooded  her  face. 

"Ah!"  mocked  Saltash  softly,  watching  her.  "Is  it 
Romeo's  step  that  I  hear?" 

Columbus  wagged  his  tail  in  welcome  as  Dick  Green 
came  round  the  corner  of  the  Ricketts'  cottage  and  walked 
down  under  the  apple-trees  to  join  them.  He  greeted  Sal- 
tash with  the  quiet  self-assurance  of  a  man  who  treads  his 
own  ground.  There  was  no  hint  of  hostility  in  his  bearing. 

"I've  been  expecting  you,"  he  said  coolly. 

"Have  you?"  said  Saltash,  a  gleam  of  malicious  humour 
in  his  eyes.  "I  thought  there  was  something  of  the  con- 
quering hero  about  you.  I  have  come — naturally — to  con- 
gratulate you  on  your  conquest." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Dick,  and  seated  himself  on  the  bench 
beside  Juliet  and  Columbus.  "That  is  very  magnanimous 
of  you." 


The  Free  Gift  277 

"It  is,"  agreed  Saltash.  "But  if  I  had  known  what  was 
in  the  wind  I  might  have  carried  it  still  further  and  offered 
you  Burchester  Castle  for  the  honeymoon." 

"How  kind  of  you!"  said  Juliet.  "But  we  prefer  cot- 
tages to  castles,  don't  we,  Dick?  We  might  have  had  the 
Court.  The  squire  very  kindly  suggested  it.  But  we  like 
this  best — till  our  own  house  is  in  order." 

"Still  rusticating!"  commented  Saltash.  "I  should  have 
thought  your  passion  for  that  would  have  been  satisfied  by 
this  time.  I  seem  to  have  got  out  of  touch  with  you  all  dur- 
ing my  stay  in  Scotland.  I  never  meant  to  go  there  this 
year,  but  I  got  lured  away  by  Muff  and  his  crowd.  Mighty 
poor  sport  on  the  whole.  I've  often  wished  myself  back. 
But  I  pictured  you  far  away  on  the  Night  Moth  with 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fielding,  and  myself  bored  to  extinction  in 
my  empty  castle.  And  so  I  hung  on.  I  certainly  never 
expected  you  to  get  married  in  my  absence,  ma  Juliette. 
That  was  the  unkindest  cut  of  all.  Why  didn't  you  write  and 
tell  me?" 

"I  didn't  even  know  where  you  were,"  said  Juliet.  "You 
disappeared  without  warning.  We  expected  you  back  at 
any  time." 

"Bad  excuses  every  one  of  'em!"  said  Saltash.  "You 
know  you  wanted  to  get  it  over  before  I  came  back.  Very 
rash  of  you  both,  but  it's  your  funeral,  not  mine.  Is  this 
all  the  honeymoon  you're  going  to  have  ?" 

Juliet  laughed  a  little.  "Well,  my  dear  Rex,  it  doesn't 
much  matter  where  you  are  so  long  as  you  are  happy.  We 
spend  a  good  deal  of  our  time  on  the  sea  and  in  it.  We  also 
go  motoring  in  the  squire's  little  car.  And  we  superintend 
the  decorating  of  our  house.  At  the  same  time  Dick  is  within 
reach  of  the  miners  who  are  being  rather  tiresome,  so  every- 
one— except  the  miners — is  satisfied." 


278  The  Obstacle  Race 

"Oh,  those  infernal  miners!"  said  Saltash,  and  looked  at 
Dick.  "How  long  do  you  think  you  are  going  to  keep  them 
in  hand?" 

"I  can't  say,"  said  Dick  somewhat  briefly.  "I  don't  ad- 
vise Lord  Wilchester  or  any  of  his  people  to  come  down 
here  till  something  has  been  done  to  settle  them." 

Saltash  laughed.  "Oh,  Muff  won't  come  near.  You 
needn't  be  afraid  of  that.  He's  deer-stalking  in  the  High- 
lands. He's  a  great  believer  in  leaving  things  to  settle  them- 
selves." 

"Is  he?"  said  Dick  grimly.  "Well,  they  may  do  that  in 
a  fashion  he  won't  care  for  before  he's  much  older." 

"Are  you  organizing  a  strike?"  suggested  Saltash,  a 
wicked  gleam  of  humour  in  his  eyes. 

Dick's  eyes  flashed  in  answer.  "I  am  not !"  he  said. 
"But — I'm  damned  if  they  haven't  good  reasons  for  striking 
— if  he  cares  as  little  as  that !" 

"How  often  do  you  tell  'em  so?"  said  Saltash. 

Juliet's  hand  slipped  quietly  from  Columbus's  head 
to  Dick's  arm.  "May  I  have  a  cigarette,  please?"  she 
said. 

He  turned  to  her  immediately  and  his  fire  died  down.  He 
offered  her  his  cigarette-case  in  silence. 

Juliet  took  one,  faintly  smiling.  "Do  you  know,"  she 
said  to  Saltash,  "it  was  Dick's  cigarettes  that  first  attracted 
me  to  him  ?  When  I  landed  on  this  desert  island,  I  had  only 
three  left.  He  came  to  the  rescue — most  nobly,  and  has  kept 
me  supplied  ever  since.  I  don't  know  where  he  gets  them 
from,  but  they  are  the  best  I  ever  tasted." 

"He  probably  smuggles  'em,"  said  Saltash,  offering  her  a 
match. 

"No,  I  don't,"  said  Dick,  rather  shortly.  "I  get  them 
from  a  man  in  town.  A  fellow  I  once  met — Ivor  Yardley, 


The  Free  Gift  279 

the  K.  C. — first  introduced  me  to  them.    I  get  them  through 
his  secretary  who  has  some  sort  of  interest  in  the  trade." 

A  sudden  silence  fell.  Juliet's  cigarette  remained  poised 
in  the  act  of  kindling,  but  no  smoke  came  from  her  lips. 
She  had  the  look  of  one  who  listens  with  almost  painful 
intentness. 

The  flame  of  the  lighted  match  licked  Saltash's  fingers, 
and  he  dropped  it.  "Pardon  my  clumsiness!  Let's  try 
again!  So  you  know  Yardley,  do  you?"  He  flung  the 
words  at  Dick.  "Quite  the  coming  man  in  his  profession. 
Rather  a  brute  in  some  ways,  cold-blooded  as  a  fish  and  wily 
as  a  serpent,  but  interesting — distinctly  interesting.  When 
did  you  meet  him  ?" 

"Early  this  year.  I  consulted  him  on  a  matter  of  busi- 
ness. I  have  no  private  acquaintance  with  him."  Dick 
was  looking  straight  at  Saltash  with  a  certain  hardness  of 
contempt  in  his  face.  "You  evidently  are  on  terms  of  in- 
timacy with  him." 

"Oh,  quite!"  said  Saltash  readily.  "He  knows  me — 
almost  as  well  as  you  do.  And  I  know  him — even  better. 
I  was  saying  to  Juliette  just  now  that  I  believe  he  shares  the 
general  impression  that  I  have  got  Lady  Jo  Farringmore 
somwhere  up  my  sleeve.  She  did  the  rabbit  trick,  you  know, 
a  week  or  two  before  the  wedding,  and  because  I  was  to 
have  been  the  best  man  I  somehow  got  the  blame.  Won- 
der if  he'd  have  blamed  you  if  you'd  been  there !" 

Dick  stiffened.    "I  think  not,"  he  said. 

"Not  disreputable  enough?"  laughed  Saltash. 

"Not  nearly,"   said  Juliet,  coming  out  of  her  silence. 
"Dick  has  rather  strong  opinions  on  this  subject,  Charles, 
so  please  don't  be  flippant  about  it !    Will  you  give  me  an- 
other match?" 

He  held  one  for  her,  his  eyebrows  cocked  at  a  comical 


280  The  Obstacle  Race 

angle,  open  derision  in  the  odd  eyes  beneath  them.  Then, 
her  cigarette  kindled,  he  sprang  up  in  his  abrupt  fashion. 

"I'm  going.  Thanks  for  putting  up  with  me  for  so  long. 
I  had  to  come  and  see  you,  Juliette.  You  are  one  of  the  very 
few  capable  of  appreciating  me  at  my  full  value." 

"I  hope  you  will  come  again,"  she  said. 

He  bowed  low  over  her  hand.  "If  I  can  ever  serve  you 
in  any  way,"  he  said,  "I  hope  you  will  give  me  the  privilege. 
Farewell,  most  estimable  Romeo !  You  may  yet  live  to 
greet  me  as  a  friend." 

He  was  gone  with  the  words  with  the  suddenness  of  a 
monkey  swinging  off  a  bough,  leaving  behind  him  a  silence 
so  marked  that  the  fall  of  an  unripe  apple  from  the  tree 
immediately  above  them  caused  Columbus  to  start  and  jump 
from  his  perch  to  investigate. 

Then  Juliet,  very  quiet  of  mien  and  level  of  brow,  got 
up  and  went  to  Dick  who  had  risen  at  the  departure  of  the 
visitor.  She  put  her  hand  through  his  arm  and  held  it 
closely. 

"You  are  not  to  be  unkind  to  my  friends,  Richard,"  she 
said.  "It  is  the  one  thing  I  can't  allow." 

He  looked  at  her  with  some  sternness,  but  his  free  hand 
closed  at  once  upon  hers.  "I  hate  to  think  of  you  on  terms 
of  intimacy  with  that  bounder,"  he  said. 

She  smiled  a  little.  "I  know  you  do.  But  you  are  prej- 
udiced. I  can't  give  up  an  old  friend — even  for  you,  Dick." 

He  squeezed  her  hand.  "Have  you  got  many  friends 
like  that,  Juliet?" 

She  flushed.    "No.    He  is  the  only  one  I  have,  and — " 

"And?"  he  said,  as  she  stopped. 

She  laid  her  cheek  with  a  very  loving  gesture  against 
his  shoulder.  "Ah,  don't  throw  stones !"  she  pleaded  gently. 
"There  are  so  few  of  us  without  sin." 


The  Free  Gift  281 

His  arm  was  about  her  in  a  moment,  all  his  hardness 
vanished.  "My  own  girl !"  he  said. 

She  held  his  hand  in  both  her  own.  "Do  you  know — 
sometimes — I  lie  awake  at  night  and  wonder — and  wonder— 
whether  you  would  have  thought  of  me — if  you  had  known 
me  in  the  old  days?" 

"Is  that  it?"  he  said  very  tenderly.  "And  you  thought 
I  was  sleeping  like  a  hog  and  didn't  know  ?" 

She  laughed  rather  tremulously,  her  face  turned  from 
him.  "It  isn't  always  possible  to  bury  the  past,  is  it,  how- 
ever hard  we  try?  I  hope  you'll  make  allowances  for  that, 
Dick,  if  ever  I  shock  your  sense  of  propriety." 

"I  shall  make  allowances,"  he  said,  "because  you  are  the 
one  and  only  woman  I  worship — or  have  ever  worshipped — 
and  I  can't  see  you  in  any  other  light." 

"How  dear  of  you,  Dicky!"  she  murmured.  "And  how 
rash!" 

"Am  I  such  an  unutterable  prig?"  he  said.  "I  feel  my- 
self that  I  have  got  extra  fastidious  since  knowing  you." 

She  laughed  at  that,  and  after  a  moment  turned  with 
impulsive  sweetness  and  put  her  cigarette  between  his  lips. 
"You're  not  a  prig,  darling.  You  are  just  an  honourable 
and  upright  gentleman  whom  I  am  very  proud  to  belong  to 
and  with  whom  I  always  feel  I  have  got  to  be  on  my  best 
behaviour.  What  have  you  been  doing  all  this  time?  I 
should  have  come  to  look  for  you  if  Saltash  hadn't  turned 
up." 

Dick's  brows  were  slightly  drawn.  "I've  been  talking 
to  Jack,"  he  said. 

"Jack!"  She  opened  her  eyes.  "Dick!  I  hope  you 
haven't  been  quarrelling !" 

He  smiled  at  her  anxious  face,  though  somewhat  grimly. 
"My  dear,  I  don't  quarrel  with  people  like  Jack.  I  came 


282  The  Obstacle  Race 

upon  him  at  the  school.  I  don't  know  why  he  was  hang- 
ing round  there.  He  certainly  didn't  mean  me  to  catch 
him.  But  as  I  did  so,  I  took  the  opportunity  for  a  straight 
talk — with  the  result  that  he  leaves  this  place  to-morrow — 
for  good." 

"My  dear  Dick !    What  will  the  squire  say  ?" 

"I  can  manage  the  squire,"  said  Dick  briefly. 

She  smiled  and  passed  on.  "And  Jack?  What  will  he 
do?" 

"I  don't  know  and  I  don't  care.  He's  the  sort  of  animal 
to  land  on  his  feet  whichever  way  he  falls.  Anyhow,  he's 
going,  and  I  never  want  to  speak  or  hear  of  him  again." 
Dick's  thin  lips  came  together  in  a  hard,  compelling  line. 

"Are  you  never  going  to  forgive  him  ?"  said  Juliet. 

His  eyes  had  a  stony  glitter.  "It's  hardly  a  matter  for  for- 
giveness," he  said.  "When  anyone  has  done  you  an  irrep- 
arable injury  the  only  thing  left  is  to  try  and  forget  it  and 
the  person  responsible  for  it  as  quickly  as  possible.  I  don't 
thirst  for  his  blood  or  anything  of  that  kind.  I  simply  want 
to  be  rid  of  him — and  to  wipe  all  memory  of  him  out  of 
my  life." 

"Do  you  always  want  to  do  that  with  the  people  who 
injure  you?"  said  Juliet. 

He  looked  at  her,  caught  by  something  in  her  tone.  "Yes, 
I  think  so.  Why?" 

"Oh,  never  mind  why !"  she  said,  with  a  faint  laugh  that 
sounded  oddly  passionate.  "I  just  want  to  find  out  what 
sort  of  man  you  are,  that's  all." 

She  would  have  turned  away  from  him  with  the  words, 
but  he  held  her  with  a  certain  dominance.  "No,  Juliet! 
\Vait!  Tell  me — isn't  it  reasonable  to  want  to  get  free  of 
anyone  who  wrongs  you — to  shake  him  off,  kick  him  off  if 
necessary, — anyway,  to  have  done  with  him?" 


The  Free  Gift  283 

"I  haven't  said  it  was  unreasonable,"  she  said,  but  she 
was  trembling  as  she  spoke  and  her  face  was  averted. 

"Look  at  me!"  he  said.  "What?  Am  I  such  a  monster 
as  all  that?  Juliet, — my  dear,  don't  be  silly!  What  are 
you  afraid  of  ?  Surely  not  of  me !" 

She  turned  her  face  to  him  with  a  quivering  smile.  "No ! 
I  won't  be  silly,  Dick,"  she  said.  "I'll  try  to  take  you  as 
I  find  you  and — make  the  best  of  you.  But,  to  be  quite 
honest,  I  am  rather  afraid  of  the  hard  side  of  you.  It  is 
so  very  uncompromising.  If  I  ever  come  up  against  it — I 
believe  I  shall  run  away !" 

"Not  you!"  he  said,  trying  to  look  into  the  soft,  down- 
cast eyes.  "Or  if  you  do  you'll  come  back  again  by  the 
next  train  to  see  how  I  am  bearing  up.  I've  got  you,  Juliet !" 
He  lifted  her  hand,  displaying  it  exultantly,  closely  clasped 
in  his.  "And  what  I  have— I  hold!" 

"How  clever  of  you !"  said  Juliet,  and  with  a  swift  lithe 
movement  freed  herself. 

His  arms  went  round  her  in  a  flash.  "I'll  make  you  pay 
for  that!"  he  vowed.  "How  dare  you,  Juliet?  How  dare 
you?" 

She  resisted  him  for  a  second,  or  two,  holding  him  from 
her,  half -mocking,  half  in  earnest.  Then,  as  his  hold 
tightened,  encompassing  her,  she  submitted  with  a  low  laugh, 
yielding  herself  afresh  to  him  under  the  old  apple-tree,  in 
full  and  throbbing  surrender  to  his  love. 

But  when  at  last  his  hold  relaxed,  when  he  had  made  her 
pay,  she  took  his  hand  and  pressed  a  deep,  deep  kiss  into  his 
palm.  "That  is — a  free  gift,  Dicky,"  she  said.  "And  it 
is  worth  more  than  all  the  having  and  holding  in  the  world." 


CHAPTER  II 

FRIENDSHIP 

IT  was  on  a  misty  evening  of  autumn  that  Vera  Fielding 
entered  her  husband's  house  once  more  like  a  bride  return- 
ing from  her  wedding-trip.  There  was  something  of  the 
petted  air  of  a  bride  about  her  as  she  came  in  on  the  squire's 
arm  throwing  her  greetings  right  and  left  to  the  assembled 
servants,  and  certainly  there  was  in  her  eyes  more  of  the 
shining  happiness  of  a  bride  than  they  had  ever  held  before. 
Her  face  was  flushed  with  a  pretty  eagerness,  and  the  petu- 
lant lines  about  her  mouth  were  far  less  apparent  than  of 
old.  Her  laugh  had  a  gay  spontaneous  ring,  and  though 
her  voice  still  had  a  slightly  arrogant  inflection  it  was  not 
without  softer  notes  when  she  addressed  the  squire. 

"I  feel  as  if  we  had  been  away  for  years  and  years,"  she 
said  to  him,  as  they  stood  together  before  the  blazing  fire 
in  the  drawing-room.  "Isn't  it  strange,  Edward?  Only 
three  months  in  reality,  and  such  a  difference !" 

He  was  lifting  the  heavy  coat  from  her  shoulders,  but 
she  turned  with  it  impulsively  and  caught  him  round  the 
neck. 

"My  dear !"  he  said,  and  clasped  her  coat  and  all. 

"It  is  going  to  last,  isn't  it?"  she  said,  her  breath  coming 
quickly.  "You  promised — you  promised — to  love  me  just 
as  much  if  I  got  well !" 

He  kissed  her  with  reassuring  tenderness.  "Yes,  my 

284 


Friendship  285 

girl,  yes !  It's  going  to  last  all  right.  We're  going  to  make 
a  happy  home  of  it,  you  and  I." 

She  clung  to  him  for  a  few  seconds,  then  broke  away 
with  a  little  laugh.  "You'll  have  to  hunt  this  winter,  Edward. 
You're  getting  stout." 

"And  shoot  too,"  said  the  squire.  "There  promises  to 
be  plenty  of  birds.  We'd  better  have  a  party  if  you  feel 
up  to  it." 

She  looked  at  him  with  kindling  eyes.  "I'm  up  to  any- 
thing. I  should  love  it.  Do  you  think  Lord  Saltash  would 
come  ?" 

"We  must  certainly  ask  him,"  said  the  squire.  "But 
you're  not  to  work  too  hard,  mind!  That's  an  order.  Let 
people  look  after  themselves'" 

"I'll  get  Juliet  to  come  and  help  me,"  she  said.  "She  must 
have  lots  of  spare  time.  By  th.e  way,  they'll  be  here  to  dine 
in  another  hour.  I  must  go  and  dress." 

"Have  some  tea  first !"  he  said.  "They  won't  mind  wait- 
ing." 

She  slipped  her  hand  through  his  arm.  "Come  and  have 
it  upstairs !  It  really  is  late.  We'll  have  a  cosy  time  together 
afterwards — when  they're  gone." 

He  smiled  upon  her  indulgently.  They  had  grown  very 
near  to  one  another  during  their  cruise  in  the  Night  Moth. 
To  him  also  their  home-coming  held  something  of  bridal  glad- 
ness. He  had  never  seen  her  so  glowing  with  happiness  be- 
fore. The  love  that  shone  in  her  eyes  whenever  they  met  his 
own  stirred  him  to  the  depths.  He  had  never  deemed  her 
capable  of  such  affection  in  the  old  days.  It  had  changed  his 
whole  world. 

They  went  upstairs  together  closely  linked.  They  entered 
Vera's  room  from  which  she  imperiously  dismissed  her  maid. 
They  sat  down  on  the  couch  beside  the  fire. 


286  The  Obstacle  Race 

"Do  you  remember  that  awful  day  when  we  quarrelled 
about  Dick  Green  ?"  said  Vera  suddenly. 

He  kept  her  hand  in  his.  "Don't !"  he  said.  "Don't  re- 
mind me  of  it !" 

Her  laugh  had  in  it  a  thrill  that  was  like  a  caress.  "Wasn't 
I  a  pig,  Edward  ?  And  weren't  you  a  tyrant  ?  I  haven't  seen 
you  in  one  of  your  royal  rages  since.  I  always  rather  ad- 
mired them,  you  know." 

"I  know  you  hated  me,"  he  said,  "and  I'm  not  surprised." 

She  made  a  face  at  him.  "Silly!  I  didn't.  I  thought 
you  the  finest  monster  I  had  ever  seen.  So  you  were — quite 
magnificent."  She  put  up  a  hand  and  stroked  his  iron-grey 
hair.  "Well,  we  shan't  quarrel  about  young  Green  any 
more,"  she  said. 

"I  wonder,"  said  the  squire,  not  looking  at  her. 

"I  don't."  he  spoke  with  confidence.  "I'm  going  to 
be  tremendously  nice  to  him — not  for  Juliet's  sake — for 
yours." 

"Thank  you,  my  dear,"  he  said,  with  an  odd  humility  of 
utterance  that  came  strangely  from  him.  "I  shall  appreciate 
your  kindness.  As  you  know — I  am  very  fond  of  Dick." 

"You  were  going  to  tell  me  why  once,"  she  said. 

He  took  her  hand  and  held  it  for  a  moment.  "I  will  tell 
you  to-night,"  he  said. 

The  maid  came  in  again  with  a  tea-tray,  and  they  had  no 
further  intimate  talk.  The  squire  became  restless  and  walked 
about  the  room  while  he  drank  his  cup.  When  he  had  fin- 
ished, he  went  away  to  his  own,  and  Vera  was  left  to  dress. 

Her  maid  was  still  putting  the  final  touches  when  there 
came  a  low  knock  at  the  door.  She  turned  sharply  from  her 
mirror. 

"Is  that  you,  Juliet  ?    Come  in !    Come  in !" 

Quietly  the  door  opened,  and  Juliet  entered. 


Friendship  287 

"My  dear!"  said  Vera,  and  met  her  impulsively  in  the 
middle  of  the  room. 

"I  had  to  come  up,"  Juliet  said.  "I  hope  you  don't  mind, 
but  neither  Dick  nor  I  can  manage  to  feel  like  ordinary  guests 
in  this  house." 

She  was  smiling  as  she  spoke.  The  white  scarf  was  thrown 
back  from  her  hair.  The  gracious  womanliness  of  her  struck 
Vera  afresh  with  its  charm. 

She  held  her  and  looked  at  her.  "My  dear  Juliet,  it  does 
me  good  to  see  you.  How  is  Dick  ?  And  how  is  Columbus  ?" 

"They  are  both  downstairs,"  Juliet  said,  "and  one  is  work- 
ing too  hard  and  the  other  not  hard  enough.  I  had  to  bring 
dear  Christopher.  You  don't  mind  ?" 

"Of  course  not,  my  dear.  I  would  have  sent  him  a  special 
invitation  if  I  had  thought.  Come  and  take  off  your  coat! 
We  got  in  rather  late  or  I  should  have  been  downstairs  to 
receive  you." 

"Tell  me  how  you  are!"  Juliet  said.  "I  don't  believe  I 
have  ever  seen  you  looking  so  well." 

"I  haven't  felt  so  well  for  years,"  Vera  declared.  "But  I 
have  promised  Edward  all  the  same  to  go  up  to  town  and  see 
his  pet  doctor  and  make  sure  that  the  cure  is  complete.  Per- 
sonally I  am  quite  sure.  But  Edward  is  such  a  dear  old  fus- 
ser.  He  won't  be  satisfied  with  appearances." 

She  laughed  on  an  indulgent  note,  and  Juliet  smiled  in 
sympathy. 

"Well,  you've  given  him  good  cause  for  that,  haven't  you  ? 
And  you  enjoyed  the  cruise?  I  am  so  glad  you  had  good 
weather." 

"It  was  gorgeous,"  said  Vera.  "I  must  write  and  tell 
Lord  Saltash.  He  has  given  me  the  time  of  my  life.  Have 
you  seen  anything  of  him  by  the  way  ?" 

"Only  once,"  said  Juliet.    "He  came  over  to  congratulate 


288  The  Obstacle  Race 

us.    But  that  is  some  time  ago.    He  may  be  at  the  other  end 
of  the  world  by  this  time." 

"No,  I  think  not,"  Vera  said.  "I  believe  he  is  in  England. 
Was  he — at  all  upset  by  your  marriage,  Juliet?" 

Juliet  laughed  a  little.  "Oh,  not  in  the  least.  He  keeps 
his  heart  in  a  very  air-tight  compartment  I  assure  you.  I 
have  never  had  the  faintest  glimpse  of  it." 

"But  you  are  fond  of  him,"  said  Vera  shrewdly. 

"Oh  yes,  quite  fond  of  him,"  Juliet's  eyes  had  a  kindly 
softness.  "I  have  never  yet  met  the  woman  who  wasn't  fond 
of  Charles  Rex,"  she  said. 

"Does — your  husband  like  him  ?"  asked  Vera. 

Juliet  shook  her  head  quizzically.  "No.  Husbands  don't 
as  a  rule." 

"Something  of  a  poacher?"  questioned  Vera. 

"Oh,  not  really.  Not  since  he  grew  up.  I  believe  he  was 
very  giddy  in  his  youth,  and  then  a  girl  he  really  cared  for 
disappointed  him.  So  the  story  runs.  I  can't  vouch  for  the 
truth  of  it,  or  even  whether  he  ever  seriously  cared  for  her. 
But  he  has  certainly  never  been  in  earnest  since." 

"What  about  Lady  Joanna  Farringmore  ?"  said  Vera  sud- 
denly. 

Juliet  was  standing  before  the  fire.  She  bent  slightly,  the 
warm  glow  softly  tinging  her  white  neck.  "I  should  have 
thought  that  old  fable  might  have  died  a  natural  death  by 
this  time,"  she  said. 

Vera  gave  her  a  sharp  look.  There  was  not  actual  dis- 
taste in  Juliet's  tone,  yet  in  some  fashion  it  conveyed  the 
impression  that  the  subject  was  one  which  she  had  no  desire 
to  discuss. 

Vera  abandoned  it  forthwith.  "Suppose  we  go  down- 
stairs," she  said. 

They  went  down  to  find  Dick  and  Columbus  patiently  wait- 


Friendship  289 

ing  in  the  hall.  Vera's  greeting  was  brief  but  not  lacking 
in  warmth.  The  thought  of  Juliet  married  to  the  school- 
master had  ceased  to  provoke  her  indignation.  She  even  ad- 
mitted to  herself  that  in  different  surroundings  Dick  might 
have  proved  himself  to  possess  a  certain  attraction.  She 
believed  he  was  clever  in  an  intellectual  sense,  and  she  be- 
lieved it  was  by  this  quality  that  he  had  captivated  Juliet. 
The  fiery  force  of  the  man,  his  almost  fierce  enthusiasms,  she 
had  never  even  seen. 

But  she  was  immediately  aware  of  a  subtle  and  secret  link 
between  the  two  as  they  all  met  together  in  the  genial  glow 
of  the  fire.  Dick's  eyes  that  flashed  for  a  second  to  Juliet 
and  instantly  left  her,  told  her  very  clearly  that  no  words  were 
needed  to  establish  communion  between  them.  They  were  in 
close  sympathy. 

She  gave  Dick  a  warmer  welcome  than  she  had  ever  ex- 
tended to  him  before,  and  found  in  the  instant  response  of  his 
smile  some  reason  for  wonder  at  her  previous  dislike.  Per- 
haps contact  with  Juliet  had  helped  to  banish  the  satire  to 
which  in  the  old  days  she  had  so  strongly  objected.  Or  per- 
haps— but  this  possibility  did  not  occur  to  her — he  sensed  a 
cordiality  in  the  atmosphere  which  had  never  been  present 
before. 

When  the  squire  came  down  they  were  all  chatting  ami- 
cably round  the  fire,  and  he  smiled  swift  approval  upon  his 
wife  ere  he  turned  to  greet  his  guests. 

"Hullo,  Dick !"  he  said,  as  their  hands  met.  "Still  running 
the  same  old  show  ?" 

"For  the  present,  sir,"  said  Dick. 

They  had  not  met  since  the  occasion  of  Dick's  and  Juliet's 
marriage  when  the  squire  had  come  over  immediately  before 
the  sailing  of  the  Night  Moth  to  be  present,  and  to  give 
her  away.  He  had  been  very  kind  to  them  both  during  the 


290  The  Obstacle  Race 

brief  hour  that  he  had  spent  with  them,  and  the  memory  of 
it  still  lingered  warmly  in  Juliet's  heart.  She  had  grown  very 
fond  of  the  squire. 

There  were  no  awkward  moments  during  that  dinner  which 
was  more  like  a  family  gathering  than  Juliet  had  thought 
possible.  The  change  in  Vera  amazed  her.  She  was  like  a 
traveller  who  after  long  and  weary  journeying  in  shady 
places  had  come  suddenly  into  bright  sunshine.  And  she 
was  younger,  more  ardent,  more  alive,  than  Juliet  had  ever 
seen  her. 

The  same  change  was  visible,  though  not  so  noticeable,  in 
the  squire.  He  too  had  come  into  the  sun,  but  he  trod  more 
warily  as  one  who — though  content  with  the  present — was 
by  no  means  certain  that  the  fair  weather  would  last.  His 
manner  to  his  wife  displayed  a  charming  blend  of  tenderness 
and  self-restraint ;  yet  in  some  fashion  he  held  his  own  with 
her,  and  once,  meeting  Juliet's  eyes,  he  smiled  in  a  way  that 
reminded  her  of  the  day  on  which  she  had  dared  to  give  him 
advice  as  to  the  best  means  of  securing  happiness. 

Dick  was  apparently  in  good  spirits  that  night,  and  he 
was  plainly  at  his  ease.  Having  taken  his  cue  from  his  hos- 
tess, he  devoted  himself  in  a  large  measure  to  her  entertain- 
ment, and  all  went  smoothly  between  them.  When  she  and 
Juliet  left  the  table  she  gave  him  a  smiling  invitation  to 
come  and  play  to  them. 

"I  havent  brought  the  old  banjo,"  he  said,  "but  I'll  make 
my  wife  sing.  She  is  going  to  help  me  this  winter  at  the 
Club  concerts." 

"Brave  Juliet!"  said  Vera,  as  she  went  out.  "I  wouldn't 
face  that  crowd  of  roughs  for  a  King's  ransom." 

"She  has  nothing  to  be  afraid  of,"  said  Dick  with  quick 
confidence.  "I  wouldn't  let  her  do  it  if  there  were  any 
danger." 


Friendship  291 

"They  seem  to  be  in  an  ugly  mood  just  now,"  said  the 
squire. 

"Yes,  I  know."  Dick  turned  back  to  him,  closing  the  door. 
"But,  taken  the  right  way,  they  are  still  manageable.  There 
is  just  a  chance  that  we  may  keep  them  in  hand  if  that  fellow 
Ivor  Yardley  can  be  induced  to  see  reason.  The  rest  of  the 
Wilchester  crew  don't  care  a  damn,  but  he  has  more  brains. 
I'm  counting  on  him." 

"How  are  you  going  to  get  hold  of  him?"  questioned  Field- 
ing. 

"I  suppose  I  must  go  up  to  town  some  week-end.  I  haven't 
told  Juliet  yet.  Unlike  the  average  woman,  she  seems  to 
have  a  holy  hatred  of  London  and  all  its  ways.  So  I  pre- 
sume she  will  stay  behind." 

"Perhaps  we  could  get  him  down  here,"  suggested  the 
squire. 

Dick  gave  him  a  swift  look.  "I've  thought  of  that,"  he 
said. 

"Well?"  said  Fielding. 

Dick  hesitated  for  a  moment.  "I'm  not  sure  that  I  want 
him,"  he  said.  "He  and  Saltash  are  friends  for  one  thing. 
And  there  are  besides — various  reasons." 

"You  don't  like  Saltash?"  said  the  squire. 

Dick  laughed  a  little.  "I  don't  hate  him — though  I  feel  as 
if  I  ought  to.  He's  a  queer  fish.  I  don't  trust  him." 

"You're  jealous !"  said  Fielding. 

Dick  nodded.  "Very  likely.  He  has  an  uncanny  attrac- 
tion for  women.  I  wanted  to  kick  him  the  last  time  we  met." 

"And  what  did  Juliet  say?" 

"Oh.  Juliet  read  me  a  lecture  and  told  me  I  wasn't  to.  But 
I  think  the  less  we  see  of  each  other  the  better — if  I  am  to 
keep  on  my  best  behaviour,  that  is." 

"It's  a  good  thing  someone  can  manage  you,"  remarked 


292  The  Obstacle  Race 

Fielding.  "Juliet  is  a  wonderful  peacemaker.  But  even  she 
couldn't  keep  you  from  coming  to  loggerheads  with  Jack  ap- 
parently. What  was  that  fight  about?" 

Dick's  brows  contracted.  "It  wasn't  a  fight,  sir,"  he  said 
shortly.  "I've  never  fought  Jack  in  my  life.  He  did  an 
infernal  thing,  and  I  made  him  quit,  that's  all." 

"What  did  he  do  ?"  asked  the  squire.  Then  as  Dick  made 
a  gesture  of  refusal:  "Damn  it,  man,  he  was  in  my  em- 
ployment anyway !  I've  a  right  to  know  why  he  cleared  out." 

Dick  pushed  back  his  chair  abruptly  and  rose.  He  turned 
his  back  on  the  squire  while  he  poked  the  blazing  logs  with 
his  foot.  Then:  "Yes,  you've  a  perfect  right  to  know," 
he  said,  speaking  jerkily,  his  head  bent.  "And  of  course  I 
always  meant  to  tell  you.  It  won't  appeal  to  you  in  the  least. 
But  Juliet  understands — at  least  in  part.  He  was  responsible 
for — my  boy's  death.  That's  why  I  made  him  go." 

It  was  the  first  time  that  he  had  voluntarily  spoken  of 
Robin  since  the  day  that  he  and  Juliet  had  followed  him  to 
his  grave.  He  brought  out  the  words  now  with  tremendous 
effort,  and  having  spoken  he  ceased  to  kick  at  the  fire  and 
became  absolutely  still. 

The  squire  sat  at  the  table,  staring  at  him.  For  some  sec- 
onds the  silence  continued,  then  irritably  he  broke  it. 

"Well  ?  Go  on,  man !  That  isn't  the  whole  of  the  story. 
What  do  you  mean  by — responsible?  He  didn't  shove  him 
over  the  cliff,  I  suppose  ?'" 

"No,"  Dick  said.  "He  didn't  do  that.  I  almost  wish  he 
had.  It  would  have  been  somehow — more  endurable." 

Again  he  became  silent,  and  suddenly  to  the  squire  sitting 
frowning  at  the  table  there  came  a  flash  of  intuition  that  told 
him  he  could  not  continue.  He  got  up  sharply,  went  to  Dick, 
still  frowning,  and  laid  an  impulsive  arm  across  his  shoulders. 

"I'm  sorry,  my  lad,"  he  said. 


Friendship  293 

Dick  made  a  slight  movement  as  if  the  caress  were  not 
wholly  welcome,  but  after  a  moment  he  reached  up  and 
grasped  the  squire's  hand. 

"It  hit  me  pretty  hard,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  not  lifting 
his  hand.  "Juliet  just  made  it  bearable.  I  shall  get  over  it 
of  course.  But — I  never  want  to  see  Jack  again." 

Again  for  a  space  he  stopped,  then  with  a  sudden  fierce 
impatience  jerked  on. 

"You  may  remember  saying  to  me  once — no;  a  hundred 
times  over — that  I  should  never  get  anywhere  so  long  as  I 
kept  my  boy  with  me — never  find  success — or  happiness — 
never  marry — all  that  sort  of  rot.  It  was  rot.  I  always  knew 
it  was.  I've  proved  it.  She  would  have  come  to  me  in  any 
case.  And  as  for  success — it  doesn't  depend  on  things  of 
that  sort.  I've  proved  that  too.  But  he — Jack — got  hold  of 
the  same  infernal  parrot-cry.  Oh,  I'm  sorry,  sir,"  he  glanced 
upwards  for  a  second  with  working  lips.  "I  can't  dress  this 
up  in  polite  language.  Jack  said  to  my  boy  Robin  what  you 
had  said  to  me.  And  he — believed  it — and  so — made  an  end." 

He  drew  his  breath  hard  between  his  teeth  and  straightened 
himself,  putting  Fielding's  arm  quietly  from  his. 

"Good  God !"  said  Fielding.  "But  the  boy  was  mad !  He 
never  was  normal.  You  can't  say — " 

"Oh  no,  sir."  With  grim  bitterness  Dick  interrupted. 
"He  just  took  the  shortest  way  out,  that's  all.  He  wasn't 
mad." 

"Committed  suicide!"  ejaculated  the  squire. 

Dick's  hands  were  clenched.  "Did  you  call  it  that,"  he 
said,  "when  a  man  lays  down  his  life  for  his  friends  ?" 

He  turned  away  with  the  words  as  if  he  could  endure  no 
more,  and  walked  to  the  end  of  the  room. 

Fielding  stood  and  watched  him  dumbly,  more  moved  than 
he  cared  to  show.  At  length,  as  Dick  remained  standing 


294  The  Obstacle  Race 

before  a  bookcase  in  heavy  silence,  he  spoke,  his  tone  an  odd 
mixture  of  peremptoriness  and  persuasion. 

"Dick!" 

Dick  jerked  his  head  without  turning  'or  speaking. 

"Are  you  blaming  me  for  this  ?"  the  squire  asked. 

Dick  turned.  His  face  was  pale,  his  eyes  fiercely  bright. 
"You,  sir!  Do  you  think  I'd  have  sat  at  your  table  if  I 
did?" 

"I  don't  know,"  the  squire  said  sombrely.  "You're  fond 
of  telling  me  I  have  no  claim  on  you,  but  I  have — for  all  that. 
There  is  a  bond  between  us  that  you  can't  get  away  from, 
however  hard  you  try.  You  think  I  can't  understand  your 
feelings  in  this  matter,  that  I'm  too  sordid  in  my  views  to 
realize  how  hard  you've  been  hit.  You  think  I'm  only  pleased 
to  know  that  you're  free  from  your  burden,  at  last,  eh,  Dick, 
and  that  your  trouble  doesn't  count  with  me?  Think  I've 
never  had  any  of  my  own  perhaps  ?" 

He  spoke  with  a  half-smile,  but  there  was  that  in  his  voice 
that  made  Dick  come  swiftly  back  to  him  down  the  long 
room;  nor  did  he  pause  when  he  reached  him.  His  hand 
went  through  the  squire's  arm  and  gripped  it  hard. 

"I'm — awfully  sorry,  sir,"  he  said.  "If  you  understand — 
you'll  forgive  me." 

"I  do  understand,  Dick,"  the  squire  said  with  great  kind- 
ness. "I  know  I've  been  hard  on  you  about  that  poor  boy. 
I'm  infernally  sorry  for  the  whole  wretched  business.  But — 
as  you  say — you'll  get  over  it.  You've  got  Juliet." 

"Yes,  thank  God!"  Dick  said.  "I  don't  know  how  I 
should  endure  life  without  her.  She's  all  I  have." 

The  squire's  face  contracted  a  little.  "No  one  else,  Dick  ?" 
he  said. 

Dick  glanced  up.  "And  you,  sir,"  he  amended  with  a  smile. 
"I'm  afraid  I'm  rather  apt  to  take  you  for  granted.  I  sup- 


Friendship  295 

pose  that's  the  bond  you  spoke  of.  I  haven't — you  know  I 
haven't — the  least  desire  to  get  away  from  it." 

"Thank  you,"  Fielding  said,  and  stifled  a  sigh.  "Life  has 
been  pretty  damnable  to  us  both,  Dick.  We  might  have  been 
— we  ought  to  have  been — much  more  to  one  another." 

"There's  no  tie  more  enduring  than  friendship,"  said  Dick 
quickly.  "You  and  I  are  friends — always  will  be." 

Fielding's  eyes  had  a  misty  look.  "The  best  of  friends, 
Dick  lad,"  he  said.  "But  will — friendship — give  me  the  right 
to  offer  you  help  without  putting  up  your  pride?  I  don't 
want  to  order  your  life  for  you,  but  you  can't  go  on  with 
this  village  domini  business  much  longer.  You  were  made 
for  better  things." 

"Oh,  that !"  Dick  said,  and  laughed.  "Yes,  I'm  going  to 
chuck  that — but  not  just  at  once.  Listen,  sir!  I  have  a 
reason.  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  but  not  now,  not  yet.  As  to 
accepting  help  from  you,  I'd  do  that  to-morrow  if  I  needed 
it,  but  I  don't.  I've  no  pride  left  where  you  are  concerned. 
You're  much  too  good  to  me  and  I'm  much  too  grateful.  Is 
that  quite  clear  ?" 

He  gave  the  squire  a  straight  and  very  friendly  look,  then 
wheeled  round  swiftly  at  the  opening  of  the  door. 

They  were  standing  side  by  side  as  Vera  threw  it  impa- 
tiently wide.  She  stood  a  second  on  the  threshold  staring 
at  them.  Then :  "Are  you  never  coming  in  ?"  she  said.  "I 
thought — I  thought — "  she  stammered  suddenly  and  turned 
white.  "Edward !"  she  said,  and  went  back  a  step  as  if  some- 
thing had  frightened  her. 

Dick  instantly  went  forward  to  her.  "Yes,  Mrs.  Fielding. 
We're  coming  now,"  he  said.  "Awfully  sorry  to  have  kept 
you  waiting.  We've  had  things  to  talk  about,  but  we've 
just  about  done.  You're  coming  aren't  you,  sir?  Take  my 
arm.  I  say !  You  look  tired." 


296  The  Obstacle  Race 

He  offered  and  she  accepted  almost  instinctively.  Her 
hand  trembled  on  his  arm  as  they  left  the  room,  and  he  sud- 
denly and  very  impulsively  laid  his  own  upon  it. 

It  was  a  protective  impulse  that  moved  him,  but  a  moment 
later  he  adjusted  the  position  by  asking  a  favour  of  her — 
for  the  first  time  in  the  whole  of  their  acquaintance. 

"Mrs.  Fielding,  please,  after  to-day — give  me  the  privilege 
of  numbering  myself  among  your  friends !" 

She  looked  at  him  oddly,  seeking  to  cover  her  agitation 
with  a  quivering  assumption  of  her  old  arrogance.  But 
something  in  his  face  deterred  her.  It  was  not  this  man's 
way  to  solicit  favours,  and  somehow,  since  he  had  humbled 
himself  to  ask,  she  had  it  not  in  her  to  refuse. 

"Very  well,  Dick,"  she  said,  faintly  smiling.  "I  grant  you 
that." 

"Thank  you,"  he  said,  and  gently  released  her  hand. 

It  was  the  swiftest  and  one  of  the  most  complete  victories 
of  his  life. 


CHAPTER  III 

CONFESSION 

IT  was  nearly  two  hours  later  that  Vera  sitting  alone  be- 
fore her  fire  turned  with  a  slight  start  at  the  sound  of  her 
husband's  step  in  the  room  beyond.  She  was  wearing  a  pale 
silk  dressing-gown  and  her  hair  hung  in  a  single  plait  over 
her  shoulder,  giving  her  a  curiously  girlish  look.  The  slim- 
ness  of  her  figure  as  she  leaned  among  the  cushions  accen- 
tuated the  fragility  which  her  recent  illness  had  stamped 
upon  her.  Her  eyes  were  ringed  with  purple,  and  they  had 
a  startled  expression  that  the  sound  of  the  squire's  step 
served  to  intensify.  At  the  soft  turning  of  the  handle  she 
made  a  movement  that  was  almost  of  shrinking.  And  when 
he  entered  she  looked  up  at  him  with  a  small  pinched  smile 
from  which  all  pleasure  was  wholly  absent. 

He  was  still  in  evening  dress,  and  the  subdued  light  falling 
upon  him  gave  him  the  look  of  a  man  still  scarcely  past  his 
prime.  He  stood  for  a  moment,  erect  and  handsome,  before 
he  quietly  closed  the  door  behind  him  and  moved  forward. 

"Still  up?"  he  said. 

Again  at  his  approach  she  made  a  more  pronounced  move- 
ment of  shrinking.  "But,  I've  been  waiting  for  you,"  she 
said  rather  hopelessly. 

He  came  to  her,  stood  looking  down  at  her,  the  old  bitter 
frown  struggling  with  a  more  kindly  expression  on  his  face. 

297 


298  The  Obstacle  Race 

He  was  obviously  waiting  for  something  with  no  pleasant 
sense  of  anticipation. 

But  Vera  did  not  speak.  She  only  sat  drawn  together, 
her  fingers  locked  and  her  eyes  downcast.  She  was  using 
her  utmost  strength  to  keep  herself  in  hand. 

"Well  ?"  he  said  at  length,  a  faint  ring  of  irritation  in  his 
voice,  "Have  you  nothing  to  say  to  me  now  I  have  come  ?" 

Her  lips  quivered  a  little.  "I  don't  think — there  is  any- 
thing to  be  said,"  she  said.  "I  knew — I  felt — it  was  too  good 
to  last." 

"It's  over  then,  is  it?"  he  said,  the  bitterness  gaining  the 
upper  hand  because  of  the  misery  at  his  heart.  "The  indis- 
cretions of  my  youth  have  placed  me  finally  beyond  the  pale. 
Is  that  it?" 

She  gripped  her  hands  together  a  little  more  tightly.  "I 
think  you  have  been — you  are — rather  cruel,"  she  said,  her 
voice  very  low.  "If  you  had  only — told  me!" 

He  made  a  gesture  of  exasperation.  "My  dear  girl,  for 
heaven's  sake,  look  at  the  thing  fairly  if  you  can !  How  long 
have  I  known  you  well  enough  to  let  you  into  my  secrets? 
How  long  have  you  been  up  to  hearing  them?  I  meant  to 
tell  you — as  you  know.  I've  been  on  the  verge  of  it  more 
than  once.  It  wasn't  cowardice  that  held  me  back.  It  was 
consideration  for  you." 

She  glanced  at  him  momentarily.  "I  see,"  she  said  in  that 
small  quivering  voice  of  hers  that  told  so  little  of  the  wild 
tumult  within  her. 

"Well  ?"  he  said  harshly.  "And  that  is  my  condemnation, 
is  it  ?  Henceforth  I  am  to  be  thrust  outside — a  sinner  beyond 
redemption.  Is  that  it?" 

Her  eyelids  fluttered  nervously,  but  she  did  not  raise  them 
again.  She  leaned  instead  towards  the  fire.  Her  shoulders 
were  bent.  She  looked  crushed,  as  if  her  vitality  were  gone. 


Confession  299 

and  yet  so  slender,  so  young,  in  her  thin  wrap.  He  clinched 
his  hands  with  a  sharp  intake  of  the  breath,  and  his  frown 
deepened. 

"So  you  won't  speak  to  me?"  he  said.  "It's  beyond  words, 
is  it  ?  It's  to  be  an  insurmountable  obstacle  to  happiness  for 
the  rest  of  our  lives  ?  We  go  back  to  the  old  damnable  exist- 
ence we've  led  for  so  long!  Or  perhaps — "  his  voice 
hardened — "  perhaps  you  think  we  should  be  better  apart? 
Perhaps  you  would  prefer  to  leave  me  ?" 

She  flinched  at  that — flinched  as  if  he  had  struck  her — 
and  then  suddenly  she  lifted  her  white  face  to  his,  showing 
him  such  an  anguish  of  suffering  as  he  had  not  suspected. 

"Oh,  Edward,"  she  said,  "why  did  this  have  to  happen? 
We  were  so  happy  before." 

That  pierced  him — the  utter  desolation  of  her — the  pain 
that  was  too  deep  for  reproach.  He  bent  to  her,  all  the  bit- 
terness gone  from  his  face. 

"My  dear,"  he  said  in  a  voice  that  shook,  "can't  you  see 
how  I  loathe  myself — for  hurting  you — like  this?" 

And  then  suddenly — so  suddenly  that  neither  knew  exactly 
how  it  happened — they  were  linked  together.  She  was 
clinging  to  him  with  a  rush  of  piteous  tears,  and  he  was 
kneeling  beside  her,  holding  her  fast  pressed  against  his 
heart,  murmuring  over  her  brokenly,  passionately,  such 
words  of  tenderness  as  she  had  never  heard  from  him  before. 
When  in  the  end  she  lifted  her  face  to  kiss  him,  it  was  wet 
with  tears  other  than  her  own,  and  somehow  that  fact  did 
more  to  quiet  her  own  distress  that  any  consolation  he 
could  find  to  offer. 

She  slipped  her  arm  about  his  neck  and  pressed  her  cheek 
to  his.  "I'm  thankful  I  know,"  she  told  him  tremulously. 
"Oh,  Edward  darling,  don't — don't  keep  anything  from  me 
ever  again!  If  I'd  only  known  sooner,  things  might  have 


300  The  Obstacle  Race 

been  so  different.  I  feel  as  if  I  have  never  known  you  till 
now." 

"Have  you  forgiven  me  ?"  he  said,  his  grey  head  bent. 

She  turned  her  lips  again  to  his.  "My  dear,  of  course — 
of  course !"  And  in  a  lower  voice,  "Will  you — tell  me  about 
her  ?  Did  she  mean  very  much  to  you  ?" 

His  arm  tightened  about  her.  "My  darling,  it's  nearly 
twenty-three  years  ago  that  she  died.  Yes,  I  loved  her.  But 
I've  never  wanted  her  back.  Her  life  was  such  an  inferno." 
He  paused  a  moment,  then  as  she  was  silent  went  on  more 
steadily.  "She  was  eighteen  and  I  was  twenty-two  when  it 
began.  I  was  home  for  a  summer  vacation,  and  she  had  just 
come  to  help  her  aunt  as  infant  teacher  at  the  school.  All 
the  men  were  wild  about  her,  but  she  had  no  use  for  any  of 
'em  till  I  come  along.  We  met  along  the  shore  or  on  the 
cliffs.  We  met  constantly.  We  loved  each  other  like  mad. 
It  got  beyond  all  reason — all  restraint.  We  didn't  look  ahead, 
either  of  us.  We  were  young,  and  it  was  so  infernally 
sweet.  I'm  not  offering  any  excuse — only  telling  you  the 
simple  truth.  You  won't  understand  of  course." 

She  pressed  closer  to  him.    "Why  shouldn't  I  understand  ?" 

He  leaned  his  head  against  her.  "God  bless  you,  my  dear ! 
You're  very  good  to  me — far  better  than  I  deserve.  I  was 
a  blackguard,  I  know.  But  I  never  meant  to  let  her  down. 
That  was  almost  as  much  her  doing  as  mine — poor  little  soul ! 
We  were  found  out  at  last,  and  there  was  a  fearful  row 
with  my  people.  I  wanted  to  take  her  away  then  and  there, 
and  marry  her.  But  she  wouldn't  hear  of  it — neither  would 
her  aunt — a  hard,  proud  woman!  I  didn't  know  then — no 
one  knew — that  she  was  expecting  a  child,  or  I'd  have  defied 
'em  all.  Instead,  she  urged  and  entreated  me  to  go  away  for 
a  few  weeks — give  her  time  to  think,  she  said.  I  hoped  even 
then  that  she  would  give  in  and  come  to  me.  But  the  next 


Confession  301 

thing  I  knew,  she  was  married  to  a  brute  called  Green — 
skipper  of  a  filthy  little  cargo-steamer,  who  had  been  after 
her  for  some  time.  She  went  with  him  on  one  or  two  short 
voyages.  Heaven  knows  what  she  endured  in  that  time.  Then 
the  baby  was  born — Dick.  They  called  him  a  seven-months 
child.  But  I  knew — I  guessed  at  once.  One  day  I  met  her — 
told  her  so.  I  saw  then — in  part — what  her  life  was  like. 
She  was  terrified — said  Green  would  kill  her  if  he  ever  found 
out.  The  man  was  a  great  hulking  bully — a  drunkard  per- 
petually on  shore.  He  used  to  beat  her  as  it  was.  She  im- 
plored me  not  to  come  up  against  him,  and — for  her  sake 
alone — I  never  did.  Then — it  was  nearly  a  year  after — he 
went  off  on  a  voyage  and  didn't  come  back.  The  boat  was 
reported  lost  with  all  hands.  I  think  everyone  rejoiced  so 
far  as  he  was  concerned.  She  went  back  to  work  at  the 
school,  supporting  herself  and  the  child.  I  never  induced 
her  to  accept  any  help  from  me,  but  gradually,  as  the  years 
went  on  and  my  uncle  died  and  I  became  my  own  master, 
I  got  into  the  position  of  intimate  friend.  I  was  allowed  to 
interfere  a  bit  in  Dick's  destinies.  But  for  a  long,  long  while 
she  permitted  no  more  than  that.  I  don't  know  exactly 
what  made  me  stick  to  her.  I  used  to  go  away,  but  I  always 
came  back.  I  couldn't  give  her  up.  And  at  last — twelve 
years  after  Green's  disappearance — I  won  her  over.  She 
promised  to  marry  me.  The  very  day  afterwards,  that 
scoundrel  Green  came  back!  And  her  martyrdom  began 
again." 

"Oh,  Edward,  my  dear!"  Vera's  hand  went  up  to  his 
face,  stroking,  caressing.  The  suppressed  misery  of  his 
voice  was  almost  more  than  she  could  bear.  "How  you  suf- 
fered !"  she  whispered. 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment  or  two,  controlling  himself. 
"It's  over  now,"  he  said  then.  Thank  God,  it's  a  long  time 


302  The  Obstacle  Race 

over!  She  died — less  than  a  year  after — when  Jack  and 
Robin  were  born.  Her  husband  fell  over  the  cliff  on  the  same 
night  in  a  fit  of  drunkenness  and  was  killed.  That's  all  the 
story.  You  know  the  rest.  I'm  sorry — I'm  very  sorry — I 
hadn't  the  decency  to  tell  you  before  we  married." 

"You — needn't  be  sorry,  dear,"  she  said  very  gently. 

He  looked  at  her.  "Do  you  mean  that,  Vera?  Do  you 
mean  it  makes  no  difference  to  you  ?" 

She  met  his  eyes  with  a  shining  tenderness  in  her  own  that 
gave  her  a  womanliness  which  he  had  never  seen  in  her  be- 
fore. "No,"  she  said,  "I  don't  mean  that.  I  mean  that  I'm 
glad  nothing  happened  to — to  prevent  my  marrying  you.  I 
mean — that  I  love  you  ten  times  more  for  telling  me 
now." 

He  gathered  her  impulsively  close  in  his  arms,  kissing  her 
with  lips  that  trembled.  "My  own  girl !  My  own  generous 
wife !  I'll  make  up  to  you,"  he  vowed.  "I'll  give  you  such 
love  as  you've  never  dreamed  of.  I've  been  a  brute  to  you 
often — often.  But  that's  over.  I'll  make  you  happy  now — 
if  it  kills  me !" 

She  laughed  softly,  with  a  quivering  exultation,  between 
his  kisses.  "That  wouldn't  make  me  happy  in  the  least. 
And  I  don't  think  you  will  find  it  so  hard  as  that  either. 
You've  begun  already — quite  nicely.  Now  that  we  under- 
stand each  other,  we  can  never  make  really  serious  mistakes 
again." 

Thereafter  they  sat  and  talked  in  the  firelight  for  a  long 
time,  closely,  intimately,  as  friends  united  after  a  long  sepa- 
ration. And  in  that  talk  the  last  barrier  between  them 
crumbled  away,  and  a  bond  that  was  very  sacred  took  its 
place. 

In  the  end  the  striking  of  the  clock  above  them  awoke 
Vera  to  the  lateness  of  the  hour.  "My  dear  Edward,  it's 


Confession  303 

to-morrow  morning  already !  Wouldn't  it  be  a  good  idea  to 
go  to  bed  ?" 

"Of  course,"  he  said.  "You  must  be  half  dead.  Thoughtless 
brute  that  I  am !"  He  let  her  go  out  of  his  arms  at  last,  but 
in  a  moment  paused,  looking  at  her  with  an  odd  wistfulness. 
"You're  sure  you've  forgiven  me  ?  Sure  you  won't  think  it 
over  and  find  you've  made  a  mistake  ?" 

Her  hands  were  on  his  shoulders.  Her  eyes  looked 
straight  into  his.  "I  am  quite  sure,"  she  said. 

He  began  to  smile.  "What  makes  you  so  generous,  I  won- 
der ?  I  never  thought  you  had  it  in  you." 

She  leaned  towards  him,  a  great  glow  on  her  face  which 
made  her  wonderful  in  his  sight.  "Oh,  my  dear,"  she  said, 
"I  never  had  before.  But  I  can  afford  to  be  generous  now. 
What  does  the  past  matter  when  I  know  that  the  present  and 
the  future  are  all  my  own  ?" 

His  smile  passed.  He  met  her  look  steadfastly.  "As 
long  as  I  live,"  he  said,  "so  shall  it  be." 

And  the  kiss  that  passed  between  them  was  as  the  sealing 
of  a  vow. 


CHAPTER  IV 

COUNSEL 

JULIET  and  Columbus  sat  in  a  sheltered  nook  on  the  shore 
and  gazed  thoughtfully  out  to  sea.  It  was  a  warm  morning 
after  a  night  of  tempest,  and  the  beach  was  strewn  with  sea- 
weed after  an  unusually  high  tide. 

Columbus  sat  with  a  puckered  brow.  In  his  heart  he 
wanted  to  be  pottering  about  among  these  ocean  treasures 
which  had  a  peculiar  fascination  for  his  doggy  soul.  But  a 
greater  call  was  upon  him,  keeping  him  where  he  was. 
Though  she  had  not  uttered  one  word  to  detain  him,  he  had 
a  strong  conviction  that  his  mistress  wanted  him,  and  so, 
stolidly,  he  remained  beside  her,  his  sharp  little  eyes  flashing 
to  and  fro,  sometimes  watching  the  great  waves  riding  in, 
sometimes  following  the  curving  flight  of  a  sea-gull,  some- 
times fixed  in  immensely  dignified  contemplation  upon  the 
quivering  tip  of  his  nose.  His  nostrils  worked  perpetually. 
The  air  was  teeming  with  interesting  scents ;  but  not  one  of 
them  could  lure  him  from  his  mistress's  side  while  he  sensed 
her  need  of  him.  His  body  might  be  fat  and  bulging,  but  his 
spirit  was  a  thing  of  keen  perceptions  and  ardent,  burn- 
ing devotion,  capable  of  denying  every  impulse  save  the  love 
that  was  its  mainspring. 

Juliet  was  certainly  very  thoughtful  that  day.  She  also 
was  watching  the  waves,  but  the  wide  brow  was  slightly 

304 


Counsel  305 

drawn  and  the  grey  eyes  were  not  so  serene  as  usual.  She 
had  the  look  of  one  wrestling  with  a  difficult  problem.  The 
roar  of  the  sea  was  all  about  her,  blotting  out  every  other 
sound,  even  the  calling  of  the  gulls.  Her  arm  encircled 
Columbus  who  was  pressed  solicitously  close  to  her  side. 
They  had  been  sitting  so,  almost  without  moving,  for  over 
half-an-hour. 

Suddenly  Columbus  turned  his  head  sharply,  and  a  growl 
swelled  through  him.  Juliet  looked  round,  and  in  a  moment 
she  had  started  to  her  feet.  A  man's  figure,  lithe  and  spare, 
with  something  of  a  monkey's  agility  of  movement,  was 
coming  to  her  over  the  stones.  They  met  in  a  shelving 
hollow  of  shingle  that  had  been  washed  by  the  sea. 

"Oh,  Charles!"  she  said  impulsively.  "It  is  good  of  you 
to  come !" 

He  glanced  around  him  as  he  clasped  her  hand,  his  ugly 
face  brimming  with  mischief.  "It  is  rather — considering  the 
risk  I  run.  I  trust  your  irascible  husband  is  well  out  of  the 
way?" 

She  laughed,  though  not  very  heartily.  "Yes,  he  has  gone 
to  town.  I  didn't  want  him  to.  I  wish  I  had  stopped  him." 

He  looked  at  her  shrewdly.  "You've  got  an  attack  of 
nerves,"  he  observed. 

She  still  sought  to  smile — though  the  attempt  was  a  poor 
one.  "To  be  quite  honest — I  am  rather  frightened." 

"Frightened!"  He  pushed  a  sudden  arm  around  her, 
looking  comical  and  tender  in  the  same  moment.  "And  so 
you  sent  for  me!  Then  it's  Ho  for  the  Night  Moth  and 
when  shall  we  start?" 

She  gave  him  a  small  push  as  half-hearted  as  her  laugh 
had  been.  "Don't  talk  rubbish,  please,  Charles — if  you 
dont  mind!  I  don't  see  myself  going  on  the  Night  Moth 
with  the  sea  like  that;  do  you?" 


3o6  The  Obstacle  Race 

"Depends,"  he  said  quizzically.  "You  might  be  persuaded 
if  the  devil  were  behind  you." 

"What !  In  your  company !"  Her  laugh  was  more  normal 
this  time;  she  gave  his  arm  a  kindly  touch  and  put  it  from 
her. 

"But  I'm  as  meek  as  a  lamb,"  protested  Saltash. 

She  met  his  look  with  friendly  eyes.  "Yes,  I  know — a 
lamb  in  wolf's  clothing — rather  a  frisky  lamb,  Charles,  but 
comparatively  harmless.  If  I  hadn't  realized  that — I 
shouldn't  have  asked  you  to  come." 

"I  like  your  qualification,"  he  said.  "With  whom  do  I 
compare  thus  favourably?  The  redoubtable  Dick?" 

The  colour  came  swiftly  into  her  face  and  he  laughed, 
derisively  but  not  unkindly. 

"It's  a  new  thing  for  me — this  sort  of  job.  Are  you 
sure  my  lamb-like  qualities  will  carry  me  through  ?  Do  you 
know,  dear,  I've  never  seen  you  look  so  amazing  sweet  in 
all  my  life  before  ?  I  never  knew  you  could  bloom  like  this. 
It's  positively  dangerous." 

He  regarded  her  critically,  his  head  on  one  side,  an  ardour 
half-mocking,  half-genuine,  in  his  eyes. 

Juliet  uttered  a  sigh.  "I  feel  a  careworn  old  hag,"  she  said. 
"My  own  fault  of  course.  Things  are  in  a  nice  muddle, 
and  I  don't  know  which  way  to  turn." 

"One  slip  from  the  path  of  rectitude!"  mocked  Saltash. 
"Alas,  how  fatal  this  may  prove !" 

She  looked  away  from  him.  "Do  you  always  jeer  at  your 
friends  when  they  are  in  trouble?"  she  said  somewhat 
wearily. 

"Always,"  said  Saltash  promptly.  "It  helps  'em  to  find 
their  feet — like  lighting  the  fire  when  the  chimney-sweep's 
boy  got  stuck  in  the  chimney.  It's  a  priceless  remedy,  my 
Juliette.  Nothing  like  it." 


Counsel  307 

"I  shall  begin  to  hate  you  directly,"  remarked  Juliet  with 
her  wan  smile. 

He  laughed,  not  without  complacence.  "Do  you  good  to 
try.  You  won't  succeed.  No  one  ever  does.  I  gather  the 
main  trouble  is  that  Dick  has  gone  to  town  when  you  didn't 
want  him  to.  Husbands  are  like  that  sometimes,  you 
know.  Are  you  afraid  he  won't  come  back — or  that  he 
will?" 

"He  will  come  back — to-day,"  she  said.  "You  know — or 
perhaps  you  don't  know — there  is  going  to  be  a  concert 
to-night  for  the  miners.  He  is  going  to  talk  to  them  after- 
wards. He  has  gone  up  to-day  to  see Ivor  Yardley." 

"What  ho !"  said  Saltash.  "This  is  interesting.  And  what 
does  he  hope  to  get  out  of  him?" 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said.  "I  had  no  idea  who  he  was 
going  to  see  till  yesterday  evening.  Mr.  Ashcott  came  in 
and  they  were  talking,  and  the  name  came  out.  I  am  not 
sure  that  he  wanted  me  to  know — though  I  don't  know  why 
I  think  so." 

"And  so  you  sent  me  an  S.  O.  S. !"  said  Saltash.  "I  am 
indeed  honoured!" 

She  turned  towards  him  very  winningly,  very  appealingly. 
"Charles  Rex,  I  sent  for  you  because  I  want  a  friend — so 
very  badly.  My  happiness  is  in  the  balance.  Don't  you 
understand  ?" 

Her  deep  voice  throbbed  with  feeling.  He  stretched  out 
a  hand  to  her  with  a  quick,  responsive  gesture  that  some- 
how belied  the  imp  of  mischief  in  his  eyes.  "Bien,  ma 
Juliette!  I  am  here!"  he  said. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said  very  earnestly.  "I  knew  I  could 
count  on  you— that  you  would  not  withdraw  your  protection 
when  once  you  had  offered  it." 

"Would  you  like  my  advice  as  well?"  he  questioned. 


308  The  Obstacle  Race 

She  met  his  quizzing  look  with  her  frank  eyes.  "What 
is  your  advice?"  she  said. 

He  held  her  hand  in  his.  "You  haven't  forgotten,  have 
you,  the  sole  condition  on  which  I  extended  my  protection 
to  you?  No.  I  thought  not.  We  won't  discuss  it.  The 
time  is  not  yet  ripe.  And,  as  you  say,  the  Night  Moth  in  this 
weather,  though  safe,  might  not  be  a  very  comfortable 
abiding-place.  But — don't  forget  she  is  quite  safe,  my 
Juliette!  I  should  like  you  to  remember  that." 

He  spoke  with  a  strange  emphasis  that  must  in  some 
fashion  have  conveyed  more  than  his  actual  words,  for  quite 
suddenly  her  throat  worked  with  a  sharp  spasm  of  emotion. 
She  put  up  her  hand  instinctively  to  hide  it. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said.  "If  I  need — a  city  of  refuge — I 
shall  know  which  way  to  turn.  Now  for  your  advice!" 

"My  advice!"  He  was  looking  at  her  with  those  odd, 
unstable  eyes  of  his  that  ever  barred  the  way  to  his  inner 
being.  "It  depends  a  little  on  the  condition  of  your  heart — 
that.  When  it  comes  to  this  in  an  obstacle  race,  there  are 
three  courses  open  to  you.  Either  you  refuse  the  jump  and 
drop  out — which  is  usually  the  safest  thing  to  do.  Or 
you  take  the  thing  at  full  gallop  and  clear  it  before  you  know 
where  you  are.  Or  you  go  at  it  with  a  weak  heart  and  come 
to  grief.  I  don't  advise  the  last  anyway.  It's  so  futile — 
as  well  as  being  beastly  humiliating." 

She  smiled  at  him.  "Thank  you,  Charles!  A  very  illu- 
minating parable  Well,  I  don't  contemplate  the  first — as  you 
know.  I  must  have  a  try  at  the  second.  And  if  I  smash — , 

it's  horribly  difficult,  you  know — I  may  smash "  Sudden 

anguish  looked  at  him  out  of  her  eyes,  and  a  hard  shiver 
went  through  her  as  she  turned  away.  "Oh,  Charles !"  she 
said.  "Why  did  I  ever  come  to  this  place?" 

He  made  a  frightful  grimace  that  was  somehow  sym- 


Counsel  309 

pathetic  and  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "If  you  smash,  my 
dearly-beloved,  your  faithful  comrade  will  have  the  priceless 
privilege  of  picking  up  the  pieces.  Why  you  came  here  is 
another  matter.  I  have  sometimes  dared  to  wonder  if  the 
proximity  of  my  poor  castle — No!  Not  that?  Ah,  well 
then,  it  must  be  that  our  destinies  are  guided  by  the  same 
star.  To  my  mind  that  is  an  even  more  thrilling  reflection 
than  the  other.  Think  of  it,  my  Juliette,  you  and  I — help- 
lessly kicking  like  flies  in  the  cream-jug — being  drawn  to 
one  another,  irresistibly  and  in  spite  of  ourselves,  even 
leaving  some  of  our  legs  behind  us  in  the  desperate  struggle 
to  be  calm  and  reasonable  and  quite — quite  moral!  And 
then  a  sudden  violent  storm  in  the  cream- jug,  and  we  are 
flung  into  each  other's  unwilling  arms  where  we  cling  for 
safety  till  the  crack  of  doom  when  all  the  milk  is  spilt !  It's 
no  use  fighting  the  stars,  you  know.  It  really  isn't.  The 
only  rational  course  is  to  make  the  stars  fight  for  you." 

He  peered  round  at  her  to  see  how  she  was  taking  his 
foolery ;  and  in  a  moment  impulsively  she  wheeled  back,  the 
distress  banished  from  her  face,  the  old  steadfast  courage 
in  its  place. 

"Oh,  Charles,  thou  king  of  clowns !"  she  said.  "What  a 
weird  comforter  you  are !" 

"King  of  philosophers  you  mean!"  he  retorted.  "It's 
taken  me  a  long  while  to  achieve  my  wisdom.  I  don't  often 
throw  my  pearls  about  in  this  reckless  fashion." 

She  laughed.  "How  dare  you  say  that  to  me?  But  I 
suppose  I  ought  to  be  humbly  grateful.  I  am  as  a  matter 
of  fact  intensely  so." 

"Oh,  no!"  he  said.    "Not  that— from  you!" 

His  eyes  dwelt  upon  her  with  a  sort  of  humorous  tender- 
ness ;  she  met  them  without  embarrassment.  "You've  done 
me  good,  Charles,"  she  said.  Somehow  I  knew  you  would— 


310  The  Obstacle  Race 

knew  I  could  count  on  you.  You  will  go  on  standing  by?" 
He  executed  a  deep  bow,  his  hand  upon  his  heart. 
"Maintenant  ct  tou jours,  ma  Juliette!"  he  assured  her  gal- 
lantly. "But  don't  forget  the  moral  of  my  parable !  When 
you  jump — jump  high!" 

She  nodded  thoughtfully.    "No,  I  shan't  forget.    You're 
a  good  friend,  Charles  Rex." 

"I  may  be,"  said  Saltash  enigmatically. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  THUNDERBOLT 

JULIET  lunched  at  the  Court  in  Dick's  absence.  They 
thought  her  somewhat  graver  and  quieter  than  usual,  but 
there  was  a  gentle  aloofness  about  her  that  checked  all  inti- 
mate enquiry. 

"You  are  not  feeling  anxious  about  the  miners?"  Vera 
asker  her  once. 

To  which  Juliet  replied,  "Oh  no !  Not  in  the  least.  Dick 
has  such  a  wonderful  influence  over  the  men.  They  would 
never  do  any  brawling  with  him  there." 

"He  has  no  business  to  drag  you  into  it  all  the  same," 
said  the  squire. 

She  looked  at  him,  faintly  smiling.  "Do  you  imagine  for 
one  moment  that  I  would  stay  behind?  Besides,  there  is 
really  no  danger.  His  only  fear  is  possible  friction  between 
the  miners  and  the  fishermen.  They  never  have  loved  each 
other,  and  in  their  present  mood  it  wouldn't  take  much  to 
set  the  miners  alight." 

"I'd  let  'em  burn !"  said  the  squire. 

"They  have  some  cause  for  grievance,"  she  urged.  "At 
least  Dick  thinks  so." 

"Well,  and  who  hasn't  I  should  like  to  know  ?"  he  returned 
with  warmth.  "How  many  people  are  there  in  the  world  who 
don't  feel  that  if  they  had  their  rights  they'd  be  a  good 


312  The  Obstacle  Race 

deal  better  off  in  one  respect  or  another  than  they  are  ?  But 
there's  no  sense  in  trying  to  stop  the  world  going  round  on 
that  account.  That's  always  the  way  with  these  miner 
chaps.  What's  the  rest  of  the  community  matter  so  long 
as  they  get  all  they  want?  They're  not  sportsmen.  They 
hit  below  the  belt  every  time." 

"That's  just  it,"  Juliet  said.  "Dick  is  trying  to  teach 
them  to  be  sportsmen." 

"Oh,  Dick!"  said  the  squire.  "He'd  reform  the  world 
if  he  could.  But  he's  wasting  his  time.  They  won't  be 
satisfied  till  they've  had  their  fling.  Lord  Wilchester  is  a 
wise  man  to  keep  out  of  the  way  till  it's  over." 

"I'm  afraid  I  don't  agree  with  you  there,"  Juliet  said, 
flushing  a  little.  "He  might  at  least  hear  what  they 
have  to  say.  But  they  can't  get  hold  of  him.  He  is 
abroad." 

"But  Yardley  is  left,"  said  the  squire.  "I  suppose  he  has 
power  to  act." 

"Perhaps,"  she  said,  the  moment's  animation  passing. 
"But  it  is  Wilchester's  business — not  his.  He  shirks  his 
duty." 

"I  notice  you  never  have  a  good  word  for  any  of  the 
Farringmore  family,"  said  the  squire  quizzically. 

She  shook  her  head.  "They  are  all  so  selfish.  It's  the 
family  failing,  I'm  afraid." 

"You  don't  share  it  anyhow,"  said  Vera. 

"Ah !    You  don't  know  me,"  said  Juliet. 

They  went  for  a  long  motor-ride  when  the  meal  was  over, 
but  at  the  end  of  it,  it  seemed  to  Vera  that  they  had  talked 
solely  of  her  affairs  throughout.  She  knew  Juliet's  quiet 
reticence  of  old  and  made  no  attempt  to  pierce  it.  But, 
thinking  it  over  later,  it  seemed  to  her  that  there  was  some- 
thing more  than  her  usual  reserve  behind  it,  and  a  vague 


The  Thunderbolt  313 

sense  of  uneasiness  awoke  within  her.  She  wondered  if 
Juliet  were  happy. 

They  had  tea  on  their  return,  but  Juliet  would  not  stay 
any  later.  She  must  be  back,  she  said,  to  meet  Dick  and  be 
sure  that  the  supper  was  ready  in  good  time.  So,  regretfully, 
still  with  that  inexplicable  feeling  of  doubt  upon  her,  Vera 
let  her  go. 

Just  at  the  last  she  detained  her  for  a  moment  to  say  with 
an  effort  that  was  plainly  no  light  one,  "Juliet,  don't  forget 
I  am  here  if — if  you  ever  need  a  friend !" 

And  then  Juliet  surprised  her  by  a  sudden,  close  embrace 
and  a  low-spoken,  "I  shall  never  forget  you — or  your  good- 
ness to  me." 

But  a  second  later  she  was  gone,  and  Vera  was  left  to 
wonder. 

As  for  Juliet,  she  hastened  away  as  one  in  a  fever  to 
escape,  yet  before  she  reached  the  end  of  the  avenue  her 
feet  moved  as  if  weighted  with  chains. 

A  mist  was  creeping  up  from  the  sea  and  through  it  there 
came  the  long  call  of  a  distant  syren.  The  waves  were  no 
longer  roaring  along  the  shore.  The  sound  of  them  came 
muffled  and  vague,  and  she  knew  that  the  storm  had  gone 
down. 

There  was  something  very  desolate  in  that  atmosphere  of 
dimmed  sight  and  muted  sound.  It  was  barely  sunset,  but 
the  chill  of  the  dying  year  was  in  the  air.  The  thought  came 
to  her  suddenly  and  very  poignantly,  of  that  wonderful  night 
of  spring,  when  she  had  first  wandered  along  the  cliff  with 
the  scent  of  the  gorse-bushes  rising  like  incense  all  around 
her,  when  she  had  first  heard  that  magic,  flute-like  call  of 
youth  and  love.  A  deep  and  passionate  emotion  filled  and 
overfilled  her  heart  with  the  memory.  As  she  went  up  the 
little  path  to  the  school-house,  her  face  was  wet  with  tears. 


3M-  The  Obstacle  Race 

Dick  had  not  returned,  and  she  went  into  the  little  dining- 
room  and  busied  herself  with  laying  the  cloth  for  supper. 
Their  only  indoor  servant — a  young  village  girl — was  out 
that  evening,  but  she  could  hear  Mrs.  Rickett  who  often 
came  up  to  help  moving  about  the  kitchen.  She  did  not  feel 
in  the  mood  for  the  good  woman's  chatter  and  delayed 
going  in  her  direction  as  long  as  possible. 

So  it  came  about  that,  pausing  for  a  few  moments  at  the 
window  before  doing  so,  she  heard  the  click  of  the  gate  and 
saw  the  old  postman  coming  up  the  path. 

He  moved  slowly  and  with  some  difficulty,  being  heavily 
laden  as  well  as  bowed  with  age  and  rheumatism.  She  went 
quickly  to  the  outer  door,  and,  accompanied  by  the  growling 
Columbus,  moved  to  meet  him. 

"Evening,  ma'am !  Here's  a  parcel  for  you !"  the  old  man 
said.  "It's  books,  and  it's  all  come  to  bits,  but  I  don't  think 
as  I've  dropped  any  of  'em.  You'd  best  let  me  bring  'em 
straight  in  for  I'm  all  fixed  up  with  'em  now,  and  they'll 
only  scatter  if  you  tries  to  take  'em." 

She  led  the  way  within,  commiserating  him  on  the  weight 
of  his  burden  which  he  thumped  down  without  ceremony 
on  the  white  cloth  that  she  had  just  spread.  The  parcel  was 
certainly  badly  damaged,  and  books  in  white  covers  began 
to  slide  out  of  it  the  moment  they  were  released. 

"I'll  leave  you  to  sort  'em,  ma'am,"  he  said  airily.  "Dare- 
say as  they're  not  much  the  worse.  Schoolmaster's  truck 
I've  no  doubt.  If  there  was  fewer  books  in  the  world,  the 
postman  would  have  an  easier  life  than  what  he  does  and 
no  one  much  worse  off  than  they  be  now — except  the  clever 
folks  as  writes  'em !  Well,  I'll  be  getting  along  to  the  Court, 
ma'am,  and  I  wish  you  a  very  good-night." 

He  stumped  away,  and  in  the  failing  evening  light  Juliet 
began  to  gather  up  the  confusion  he  had  left  behind.  She 


The  Thunderbolt  315 

found  it  was  not  a  collection  of  paper-backed  school-books 
as  she  had  at  first  imagined,  and  since  the  contents  of  the 
parcel  were  very  thoroughly  scattered  she  glanced  at  them 
with  idle  curiosity  as  she  laid  them  together. 

Then  with  a  sudden  violent  start  she  picked  up  one  of  the 
volumes  and  looked  at  it  closely.  The  title  stood  out  with 
arresting  clearness  on  the  white  paper  jacket:  Gold  of  the 
Desert  by  Dene  Strange.  Author  of  The  Valley  of  Dry 
Bones,  Marionettes,  etc. 

She  caught  her  breath.  Something  sprang  up  within 
her — something  that  clamoured  grotesque  and  incoherent 
things.  Her  heart  was  beating  so  fast  that  it  seemed  con- 
tinuous like  the  dull  roar  of  the  sea.  The  volumes  were  all 
alike — all  copies  of  one  book. 

A  sheet  of  paper  fluttered  from  the  one  she  held.  She 
snatched  at  it  with  a  curious  desperation — as  though,  sinking 
in  deep  waters,  she  clutched  at  a  straw. 

Author's  Copies — With  Compliments,  were  the  words  that 
stood  out  before  her  widening  gaze.  She  remained  as  one 
transfixed,  staring  at  them.  It  was  as  if  a  thunderbolt  had 
fallen  in  the  quiet  room.  .  .  . 

It  must  have  been  many  minutes  later  that  she  came  to  her- 
self and  found  herself  huddled  in  a  chair  by  the  table, 
shivering  from  head  to  foot.  She  was  conscious  of  a  horrible 
feeling  of  sickness,  and  her  heart  was  beating  slowly,  with 
thick,  uneven  strokes. 

The  room  was  growing  dark.  The  chill  desolation  of  the 
world  outside  seemed  to  have  followed  her  in.  She  could 
not  remember  that  she  had  ever  felt  so  deadly  cold  before. 
She  could  not  keep  her  teeth  from  chattering. 

Something  moved  close  to  her,  and  she  realized  what  had 
roused  her.  Columbus  was  standing  up  by  her  side,  his  fore- 


316  The  Obstacle  Race 

paws  against  her,  his  grizzled  nose  nudging  her  arm.  She 
stirred  stiffly,  and  put  the  arm  about  him. 

"Oh — Christopher!"  she  said,  and  gasped  as  if  she  had 
not  breathed  for  a  long  time.  "Oh — Christopher !" 

He  leaned  up  against  her,  stretching  his  warm  tongue  to 
reach  her  cheek,  his  whole  body  wriggling  with  gushing 
solicitude  under  her  hand. 

She  looked  down  at  him  with  the  dazed  eyes  of  one  who 
has  received  a  stunning  blow.  "I  don't  know  what  we  shall 
do,  my  doggie,"  she  said. 

And  then  very  suddenly  she  was  on  her  feet,  tense,  palpi- 
tating, her  head  turned  to  listen.  The  gate  had  clicked  again, 
and  someone  was  coming  up  the  path. 

It  was  Dick,  and  he  moved  with  the  step  of  an  eager  man, 
reached  the  door,  opened  it,  and  entered.  She  heard  him  in 
the  passage,  heard  his  tread  upon  the  threshold,  heard  his 
voice  greeting  her. 

"Hullo,  darling!  All  alone  in  the  dark?  I've  had  a  beast 
of  a  day  away  from  you." 

His  hands  reached  out  and  clasped  her.  She  was  actually 
in  his  arms  before  she  found  her  voice. 

"Dick!  Dick!  Please!  I  want  to  speak  to  you,"  she 
said. 

He  clasped  her  close.  His  lips  pressed  hers,  stopping 
all  utterance  for  a  while  with  a  mastery  that  would  not 
be  held  in  check.  She  could  not  resist  him,  but  there  was 
no  rapture  in  her  yielding.  His  love  was  like  a  flame 
about  her,  but  she  was  cold — cold  as  ice.  Suddenly,  with 
his  face  against  her  neck,  he  spoke:  "What's  the  matter, 
Juliet?" 

She  quivered  in  response,  made  an  attempt  to  release  her- 
self, felt  his  arms  tighten,  and  was  still.  "I  have — found 
out — something."  she  said,  her  voice  very  low. 


The  Thunderbolt  317 

"What  is  it?"  he  said. 

She  did  not  answer.  A  great  impulse  arose  in  her  to 
wrench  herself  from  him,  to  thrust  him  back  but  she  could 
not.  She  stood — a  prisoner — in  his  hold. 

He  waited  a  moment,  still  with  his  face  bent  over  her, 
his  lips  close  to  her  neck.  "Is  it  anything  that — matters?" 
he  asked. 

She  felt  his  arms  drawing  her  and  quivered  again  like  a 
trapped  bird.  "Yes,"  she  whispered. 

"Very  much?" 

"Yes,"  she  said  again. 

"Then  you  are  angry  with  me,"  he  said. 

She  was  silent. 

He  pressed  her  suddenly  very  close.  "Juliet,  you  don't 
hate  me,  do  you  ?" 

She  caught  her  breath  with  a  sob  that  sounded  painfully 
hard  and  dry.  "I — couldn't  have  married  you — if  I  had 
known,"  she  said. 

He  started  a  little  and  lifted  his  head.  "As  bad  as  that !" 
he  said. 

For  a  space  there  was  silence  between  them  while  his  eyes 
dwelt  sombrely  upon  the  litter  of  books  upon  the  table,  and 
still  his  arms  enfolded  her  though  he  did  not  hold  her  close. 
When  at  last  she  made  as  if  she  would  release  herself,  he 
still  would  not  let  her  go. 

"Will  you  listen  to  me?"  he  said.  "Give  me  a  hearing — 
just  for  a  minute?  You  have  forgiven  so  much  in  me  that 
is  really  bad  that  I  can't  feel  this  last  to  be — quite  unpardon- 
able. Juliet,  I  haven't  really  wronged  you.  You  have  got  a 
false  impression  of  the  man  who  wrote  those  books.  It's  a 
prejudice  which  I  have  promised  myself  to  overcome.  But 
I  must  have  time.  Will  you  defer  judgment — for  my  sake 
— till  you  have  read  this  latest  book,  written  when  you  first 


318  The  Obstacle  Race 

came  into  my  life?    Will  you — Juliet,  will  you  have  patience 
till  I  have  proved  myself  ?" 

She  shivered  as  she  stood.    "You  don't  know — what  you 
have  done,"  she  said. 

He  made  a  quick  gesture  of  protest.  "Yes,  I  do  know. 
I  know  quite  well.  I  have  hurt  you,  deceived  you.  But  hear 
my  defence  anyway!  I  never  meant  to  marry  you  in  the 
first  place  without  telling  you,  but  I  always  wanted  you  to 
read  this  book  of  mine  first.  It's  different  from  the  others. 
I  wanted  you  to  see  the  difference.  But  then  I  got  carried 
away  as  you  know.  I  loved  you  so  tremendously.  I  couldn't 
hold  myself  in.  Then — when  you  came  to  me  in  my  misery 
— it  was  all  up  with  me,  and  I  fell.  I  couldn't  tell  you  then, 
Juliet,  I  wasn't  ready  for  you  to  know.  So  I  waited — till 
the  book  could  be  published  and  you  could  read  it.  I  am 
infernally  sorry  you  found  out  like  this.  I  wanted  you — 
so  badly — to  read  it  with  an  open  mind.  And  now — which- 
ever way  you  look  at  it — you  certainly  won't  do  that." 

There  was  a  whimsical  note  in  his  voice  despite  its  obvious 
sincerity  as  he  ended,  and  Juliet  winced  as  she  heard  it,  and 
in  a  moment  with  resolution  freed  herself  from  his  hold. 

She  did  it  in  silence,  but  there  was  that  in  the  action  that 
deeply  wounded  him.  He  stood  motionless,  looking  at  her, 
a  glitter  of  sternness  in  his  eyes. 

"Juliet,"  he  said  after  a  moment,  "you  are  not  treating 
this  matter  reasonably.  I  admit  I  tricked  you,  but  my  love 
for  you  was  my  excuse.  And  those  books  of  mine — 
especially  the  one  I  didn't  want  you  to  read — were  never 
intended  for  such  as  you." 

She  looked  back  at  him  with  a  kind  of  frozen  wonder. 
"Then  who  were  they  meant  for  ?"  she  said. 

He  made  a  slight  movement  of  impatience.  "You  know. 
You  know  very  well.  They  were  meant  for  the  people  whore 


The  Thunderbolt  319 

you  yourself  despise — the  crowd  you  broke  away  from — men 
and  women  like  the  Farringmores  who  live  for  nothing  but 
their  own  beastly  pleasures  and  don't  care  the  toss  of  a 
halfpenny  for  anyone  else  under  the  sun." 

She  went  back  against  the  table  and  stood  there,  support- 
ing herself  while  she  still  faced  him.  "You  forget — "  she 
said,  her  voice  very  low,  — "I  think  you  forget — that  they 
are  my  people — I  belong  to  them !" 

"No,  you  don't!"  he  flung  back  almost  fiercely.  "You 
belong  to  me!" 

A  great  shiver  went  through  her.  She  clenched  her  hands 
to  repress  it.  "I  don't  see,"  she  said,  "how  I  can — possibly 
— stay  with  you — after  this." 

"What?"  He  strode  forward  and  caught  her  by  the 
shoulders.  She  was  aware  of  a  sudden  hot  blaze  of  anger 
in  him  that  made  her  think  of  the  squire.  He  held  her  in 
a  grip  that  was  merciless.  "Do  you  know  what  you  are 
saying?"  he  asked. 

She  tried  to  hold  him  from  her,  but  he  pressed  her  to  him 
with  a  dominance  that  would  not  brook  resistance. 

"Do  you?"  he  said.  "Do  you?" 

His  face  was  terrible.  She  felt  the  hard  hammer  of  his 
heart  against  her  own,  and  a  sense  of  struggling  against 
overwhelming  odds  came  upon  her. 

She  bowed  her  head  against  his  shoulder.  "Oh,  Dick!" 
she  said.  "It  is  you — who — don't — know !" 

His  hold  did  not  relax,  and  for  a  space  he  said  no  word, 
but  stood  breathing  deeply  as  a  man  who  faces  some  deadly 
peril. 

He  spoke  at  length,  and  in  his  voice  was  something  she 
had  never  heard  before — something  from  which  she  shrank 
uncontrollably,  as  the  victim  shrinks  from  the  branding-iron. 

"And  so  you  think  you  can  leave  me — as  lightly  as  Lady 


320  The  Obstacle  Race 

Joanna  Farringmore  left  that  man  I  went  to  see  to- 
day?" 

She  lifted  her  head  with  a  gasp.  "No !"  she  said.  "Oh 
no!  Not— like  that !" 

His  eyes  pierced  her  with  their  appalling  brightness.  "No, 
not  quite  like  that,"  he  said,  with  awful  grimness.  "There 
is  a  difference.  An  engaged  woman  can  cut  the  cable  and 
be  free  without  assistance.  A  married  woman  needs  a  lover 
to  help  her !" 

She  shrank  afresh  from  the  scorching  cynicism  of  his 
words.  "Dick?"  she  said.  "Have  I  asked  for — freedom?" 

"You  had  better  not  ask!"  he  flashed  back.  "You  have 
gone  too  far  already.  I  tell  you,  Juliet,  when  you  gave 
yourself  to  me  it  was  irrevocable.  There's  no  going  back 
now.  You  have  got  to  put  up  with  me — whatever  the  cost." 

"Ah!"  she  whispered. 

"Listen !"  he  said.  "This  thing  is  going  to  make  no  differ- 
ence between  us — no  difference  whatever.  You  cared  for  me 
enough  to  marry  me,  and  I  am  the  same  man  now  that  I  was 
then.  The  man  you  have  conjured  up  in  your  own  mind  as 
the  writer  of  those  books  is  nothing  to  me — or  to  you  now. 
I  am  the  man  who  wrote  them — and  you  belong  to  me. 
And  if  you  leave  me — well,  I  shall  follow  you — and  bring 
you  back." 

His  lips  closed  implacably  upon  the  words;  he  held  her 
as  though  challenging  her  to  free  herself.  But  Juliet  neither 
moved  nor  spoke.  She  stood  absolutely  passive  in  his  hold, 
waiting  in  utter  silence. 

He  waited  also,  trying  to  read  her  face  in  the  dimness, 
but  seeing  only  a  pale  still  mask. 

At  last.    "You  understand  me?"  he  said. 

She  bent  her  head.     "Yes — I  understand." 

He  stood  for  a  moment  longer,  then  abruptly  his  hold 


The  Thunderbolt  321 

tightened  upon  her.  She  lifted  her  face  then  sharply,  re- 
sisting him  almost  instinctively,  and  in  that  instant  his 
passion  burst  its  bonds.  He  crushed  her  to  him  with  sudden 
mastery,  and,  so  compelling,  he  kissed  her  hotly,  possessively, 
dominatingly,  holding  her  lips  with  his  own,  till  she  strained 
against  him  no  longer,  but  hung,  burning  and  quivering,  at 
his  mercy. 

Then  at  length  very  slowly  he  put  her  down  into  the  chair 
from  which  she  had  risen  at  his  entrance,  and  released  her. 
She  leaned  upon  the  table,  trembling,  her  hands  covering  her 
face.  And  he  stood  behind  her,  breathing  heavily,  saying  no 
word. 

So  for  a  space  they  remained  in  darkness  and  silence,  till 
the  brisk  opening  of  the  kitchen-door  brought  them  back  to 
the  small  things  of  life. 

Dick  moved.    "Go  upstairs !"  he  said,  under  his  breath. 

She  stirred  and  rose  unsteadily.  He  put  out  a  hand  to 
help  her.  She  did  not  take  it,  did  not  seem  even  to  see  it. 

Gropingly,  she  turned  to  the  door,  went  out  slowly,  still 
as  if  feeling  her  way,  reached  the  narrow  stairs  and  went 
up  them,  clutching  at  the  rail. 

He  followed  her  to  the  foot  and  stood  there  watching  her. 
As  she  reached  the  top  he  heard  her  sob. 

An  impulse  caught  him  to  follow  her,  to  take  her  again 
— but  how  differently! — into  his  arms, — to  soothe  her,  to 
comfort  her,  to  win  her  back  to  him.  But  sternly  he  put  it 
from  him.  She  had  got  to  learn  her  lesson,  to  realize  her 
obligations, — she  who  talked  so  readily  of  leaving  him!  And 
for  what? 

A  wave  of  hot  blood  rose  to  his  forehead,  and  he  clenched 
his  hands.  He  went  back  into  the  room,  knowing  that  he 
could  not  trust  himself. 

When  Mrs.  Rickett  entered  with  a  lamp  a  few  moments 


322  The  Obstacle  Race 

later,  he  was  gathering  up  the  litter  of  books  and  paper  from 
the  table,  his  face  white  and  sternly  set.  He  gave  her  a  brief 
word  of  greeting,  and  went  across  to  the  school  with  his 
burden. 


CHAPTER  VI 

COALS  OF  FIRE 

IT  was  nearly  half-an-hour  later  that  Mrs.  Rickett  ascended 
the  stairs  and  knocked  at  Juliet's  door. 

"Supper's  been  in  this  long  time,"  she  called.  "And  Mr. 
Green's  still  over  at  the  school." 

There  was  a  brief  pause,  then  Juliet's  quiet  movement  in 
the  room.  She  opened  the  door  and  met  her  on  the  threshold. 

"Why,  you  haven't  got  a  light!"  said  Mrs.  Rickett.  "Is 
there  anything  the  matter,  ma'am?  Aren't  you  well?" 

"Yes,  quite,  thank  you,"  Juliet  said  in  her  slow  gentle 
voice.  "I  am  afraid  I  forgot  the  time.  I  will  put  on  my 
hat  before  I  come  down." 

Mrs.  Rickett's  eyes  regarded  her  shrewdly  for  a  moment 
or  two,  then  looked  away.  "Shall  I  fetch  you  a  candle?" 
she  said. 

Juliet  turned  back  into  the  room.  "I  have  one,  thank 
you.  Perhaps  you  wouldn't  mind  going  to  find  Mr.  Green 
while  I  dress." 

Mrs.  Rickett  hastened  away,  and  Juliet  lighted  her  candle 
and  surveyed  herself  for  a  second,  standing  motionless  before 
the  glass. 

Several  minutes  later  she  descended  the  stairs  and  went 
quietly  into  the  dining-room.  She  was  wearing  a  large- 
brimmed  hat  that  shadowed  her  face. 

323 


324  The  Obstacle  Race 

Dick,  standing  by  the  mantelpiece,  waiting  for  her,  gave 
her  a  hard  and  piercing  look  as  she  entered. 

"I  am  sorry  I  am  late,"  she  said. 

He  moved  abruptly  as  if  somehow  the  conventional  words 
had  an  edge.  He  drew  out  a  chair  for  her.  "I  am  afraid 
there  isn't  a  great  deal  of  time,"  he  said. 

She  sat  down  with  a  murmured  word  of  thanks.  He  took 
his  place,  facing  her,  very  pale,  but  absolutely  his  own 
master.  He  served  her  silently,  and  she  made  some  pretence 
of  eating,  keeping  her  head  bent,  feeding  Columbus  surrep- 
titiously as  he  sat  by  her  side. 

Her  plate  was  empty  when  at  length  very  resolutely  she 
looked  up  and  spoke.  "Dick,  I  want  you  to  understand  one 
thing.  I  did  not  open  that  parcel  of  yours.  It  was  open 
when  it  came." 

Instantly  his  eyes  were  upon  her  with  merciless  directness. 
"I  gathered  that,"  he  said. 

She  met  his  look  unflinchingly,  but  her  next  words  came 
with  an  effort.  "Then  you  can't — with  justice — blame  me 
for  surprising  your  secret." 

"I  don't,"  he  said. 

"And  yet — "  She  made  a  slight  gesture  of  remonstrance, 
as  if  the  piercing  brightness  of  his  eyes  were  more  than  she 
could  bear. 

He  pushed  back  his  chair  and  rose.  He  came  to  her  as 
she  sat,  bent  over  her,  his  hand  on  her  shoulder,  and  looked 
at  her  intently. 

"Juliet,"  he  said,  "I  don't  like  you  with  that  stuff  on  your 
face.  It  isn't — you." 

She  kept  her  face  steadily  upturned,  enduring  his  look 
with  no  sign  of  shrinking.  "You  are  meeting — the  real  me 
— for  the  first  time — to-night,"  she  said. 


Coals  of  Fire  325 

His  mouth  curved  cynically.  "I  think  not.  I  have  never 
worshipped  at  the  shrine  of  a  painted  goddess." 

Something  rose  in  her  throat  and  she  put  up  a  hand  to 
hide  it.  "I  doubt  if — Dene  Strange — was  ever  capable  of 
worshipping  anything,"  she  said. 

His  hand  closed  upon  her.  "Does  that  mean  that  you  hate 
him  more  than  you  love  me?"  he  said. 

A  faint  quiver  crossed  her  face.  She  passed  the  question 
by.  "Do  you  remember — Cynthia  Paramount — your 
heroine?"  she  said.  "The  woman  you  dissected  so  cleverly 
— stripped  to  the  naked  soul — and  exposed  to  public  ridicule  ? 
You  were  terribly  merciless,  weren't  you,  Dick?  You  didn't 
expect — some  day — to  find  yourself  married — to  that  sort  of 
woman." 

His  face  hardened.  "In  what  way  do  you  resemble  her  ?" 
he  said.  "I  have  never  seen  it  yet." 

"Can't  you  see  it — now?"  she  returned,  lifting  her  face 
more  fully  to  the  light. 

He  was  silent  for  several  seconds,  looking  at  her.  Then 
very  suddenly  his  attitude  changed.  He  knelt  down  by  her 
side  and  spoke,  urgently,  passionately. 

"Juliet — for  God's  sake — let  us  remember  what  we  are  to 
each  other — and  put  the  rest  away!" 

His  arm  encircled  her.  He  would  have  drawn  her  close, 
but  she  held  back  with  a  sharp  sound  that  was  almost  a  cry 
of  pain. 

"Dick,  wait — wait  a  moment!  You  don't  know — don't 
understand !  Ah,  wait — please  wait !  Take  your  arm  away 
— just  for  a  moment — please — just  for  a  moment!  I  have 
something  to  tell  you,  but  I  can't  say  it  like  this.  I  can't — 
I  can't— Ah !  What  is  that  ?" 

She  broke  off,  gasping,  almost  fighting  for  breath,  as  the 
sudden  rush  and  hoot  of  a  car  sounded  at  the  gate 


326  The  Obstacle  Race 

Dick  got  to  his  feet.  His  face  was  white.  "Are  you 
expecting  someone?"  he  said. 

She  clasped  her  hands  tightly  upon  her  breast  to  still  her 
agitation.  "No,  I'm  not  expecting — anyone.  But — but — 
someone — has  come." 

"Evidently,"  said  Dick. 

He  turned  towards  the  door,  but  in  a  moment  she  had 
sprung  up,  reaching  it  before  him.  "Dick,  if  it  is  Sal- 
tash " 

"Why  should  it  be  Saltash?"  he  said,  with  that  in  his 
voice  that  arrested  her  as  compelling  as  if  he  had  laid  a 
hand  upon  her. 

She  faced  him  standing  at  the  door,  striving  desperately 
for  self-control.  "It  may  be  Saltash,"  she  said,  speaking 
more  quietly.  "I  saw  him  this  morning,  and  he  knows  about 
the  concert  to-night.  Dick — "  she  caught  her  breath  invol- 
untarily— "Dick,  why  do  you  look  at  me  like  that?" 

He  made  a  curious  jerky  movement — as  if  he  strove 
against  invisible  bonds.  "So,"  he  said,  "you  are  expecting 
him!" 

She  stiffened  at  his  words.  "I  have  told  you  I  am  ex- 
pecting no  one,  but  that  is  no  reason  why  Saltash  should  not 
come." 

For  a  second  he  looked  at  her  with  something  that  was 
near  akin  to  contempt  in  his  eyes,  then  suddenly  an  awful 
flame  leapt  up  in  them  consuming  all  beside.  He  took  a 
swift  step  forward,  and  caught  her  between  his  hands. 

"Juliet !"  he  said  sternly.  "Stop  this  trifling !  What  are 
you  hiding  from  me?  What  is  it  you  were  trying  to  tell 
me  just  now?" 

She  shrank  from  the  fire  of  his  look.  "I  can't  tell 
you  now,  Dick.  It's  impossible.  Dick,  you  are  hurting 
me!" 


Coals  of  Fire  327 

He  spoke  between  his  teeth.  "I've  got  to  know !  Tell  me 
now !" 

Someone  was  knocking  a  careless  tattoo  upon  the  outer 
door.  Juliet  turned  her  head  sharply,  but  she  kept  her  eyes 
upon  her  husband's  face. 

"No,  Dick,"  she  said  after  a  moment,  and  with  the  words 
something  of  her  customary  quiet  courage  came  back  to  her. 
"I  can't — possibly — tell  you  now.  Do  this  one  thing  for 
me — wait  till  to-night!" 

"And  then?"  he  said. 

"I  promise  that  you  shall  know — everything — then,"  she 
said.  "Please — give  me  till  then!" 

There  was  earnest  entreaty  in  her  voice,  but  she  had  sub- 
dued her  agitation.  She  met  the  scorching  intensity  of  his 
look  with  eyes  that  never  wavered,  and  in  spite  of  himself 
he  was  swayed  by  her  steadfastness. 

"Very  well,"  he  said,  and  set  her  free.     "Till  to-night!" 

She  turned  from  him  in  silence  and  opened  the  door.  He 
stood  motionless,  with  hands  clenched  at  his  sides,  and 
•watched  her. 

She  went  down  the  passage  without  haste  and  reached  the 
outer  door.  She  opened  it  without  fumbling,  and  in  a 
moment  Saltash's  debonair  accents  came  to  him. 

"Ah,  Juliette!  You  are  ready?  Has  your  good  husband 
got  back  yet  ?  Ah,  there  you  are,  sir !  I  have  called  to  offer 
you  and  madame  a  lift.  I  am  going  your  way." 

He  came  sauntering  up  the  passage  with  the  royal  assur- 
ance characteristic  of  him,  and  held  out  his  hand  to  Dick 
with  malicious  cordiality. 

"I  come  as  a  friend,  Romeo.  Do  you  know  you're  very 
late?  Have  you  only  just  got  back?" 

Juliet's  eyes  were  upon  Dick.  She  saw  his  momentary 
hesitation  before  he  took  the  proffered  hand. 


328  The  Obstacle  Race 

Saltash  saw  it  also  and  grinned  appreciatively.  "Well, 
what  news?  What  did  Yardley  have  to  say?" 

"I  didn't  see  him,"  Dick  said  briefly. 

"No?    How  was  that?" 

Dick  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Merely  because  he  wasn't 
there.  I  can't  tell  you  why,  for  I  don't  know.  I  waited 
about  all  day — to  no  purpose." 

"Drew  a  blank !"  commented  Saltash.  "No  wonder  you're 
feeling  a  bit  savage !  What  are  you  going  to  do  now  ?" 

Dick  faced  him,  grimly  uncommunicative.  "Oh,  talk,  I 
suppose.  What  else?" 

"And  you're  taking  Juliet?"  pursued  Saltash. 

"Have  you  any  objection?"  said  Dick  sharply. 

"None,"  said  Saltash  smoothly.  "She  is  your  wife,  not 
mine — perhaps  fortunately  for  her."  He  threw  a  gay  glance 
at  Juliet.  "Are  you  ready,  ma  chere?  Come  along,  man  ami! 
It  will  amuse  me  to  hear  you — talk." 

Juliet  went  upstairs  to  fetch  her  cloak,  and  Dick  took  his 
coat  from  the  peg  in  the  hall,  and  began  to  put  it  on.  Salt- 
ash watched  him  with  careless  amiability. 

"Are  you  going  to  be  there  to-night  then?"  Dick  asked 
him  suddenly. 

"I  am  proposing  to  give  myself  that  pleasure,"  he  returned. 
"That  is,  of  course,  if  you  on  your  part  have  no  objection." 

Dick's  black  eyes  surveyed  him  keenly.  "I  am  quite  cap- 
able of  protecting  my  wife  single-handed,"  he  said.  "Not 
that  there  will  be  any  need." 

Saltash  executed  a  smiling  DOW.  "I  am  delighted  to  hear 
you  say  so.  Have  you  got  a  cigarette  to  spare?" 

Dick  took  out  his  case  and  held  it  to  him.  Saltash  helped 
himself,  the  smile  still  twitching  the  corners  of  his  mouth. 

"Thanks,"  he  said  lightly.  "So  you  have  no  anxieties  about 
to-night !" 


Coals  of  Fire  329 

"None,"  said  Dick. 

"You  think  the  men  will  come  to  heel  ?" 

"They  haven't  broken  away  yet,"  Dick  reminded  him 
curtly. 

Saltash  raised  his  eyes  suddenly.  "When  they  do — what 
then?"  he  said. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  Dick. 

He  laughed  mischievously.  "I  suppose  you  know  that  you 
are  credited  with  being  at  their  head  ?" 

Dick,  in  the  act  of  striking  a  match,  paused.  He  looked  at 
the  other  man  with  raised  brows.  "At  their  head?"  lie 
questioned.  "What  do  you  mean?" 

Without  the  smallest  change  of  countenance  Saltash  en- 
lightened him.  "As  strike-leader,  agitator,  and  so  on.  You 
have  achieved  an  enviable  reputation  by  your  philanthropy. 
Didn't  you  know?" 

Dick  struck  the  match  with  an  absolutely  steady  hand, 
and  held  it  to  his  cigarette.  "I  did  not,"  he  said. 

Saltash  puffed  at  the  cigarette,  peering  at  him  curiously 
through  the  smoke.  "Which  may  account  for  your  failure 
to  find  Ivor  Yardley,"  he  suggested  after  a  moment. 

"In  what  way?"  said  Dick. 

Saltash  straightened  himself.  "I  imagine  he  is  not  a  great 
believer  in — philanthropy,"  he  said. 

Dick's  eyes  shone  with  an  ominous  glitter.  "From  my 
point  of  view  these  insinuations  are  not  worth  considering," 
he  said,  "though  no  doubt  it  has  given  you  a  vast  amount 
of  enjoyment  to  fabricate  them." 

"I !"  said  Saltash. 

"You!"  said  Dick. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  then  Saltash  began  to  laugh. 
"My  dear  chap,  you  don't  really  think  that!  You'd  like  to 
— but  you  can't!" 


330  The  Obstacle  Race 

Dick  looked  at  him,  thin-lipped,  uncompromising,  silent. 

"You  actually  do  ?"  questioned  Saltash.  "You  really  think 
I  care  a  twopenny  damn  what  anybody  thinks  about  you  or 
anyone  else  under  the  sun?  I  say,  don't  be  an  ass,  Green, 
whatever  else  you  are!  It's  too  tiring  for  all  concerned. 
If  you  really  want  to  know  who  is  responsible " 

"Well?"  said  Dick. 

"Well,"  Saltash  sent  a  cloud  of  smoke  upwards,  "look  a 
bit  nearer  home,  man!  Haven't  you  got — a  brother  some- 
where?" 

Dick  gave  a  sudden  start.    "I  have  not !"  he  said  sternly. 

Saltash  nodded.  "Ah!  Well,  I  imagine  Yardley  knows 
him  if  you  don't.  He  is  the  traitor  in  the  camp,  and  he's 
out  to  trip  you  if  he  can."  He  laughed  again  with  careless 
humour.  "I  don't  know  why  I  should  give  you  the  tip.  It 
is  not  my  custom  to  heap  coals  of  fire.  Pray  excuse  them 
on  this  occasion!  I  suppose  you  are  quite  determined  to 
take  Juliette  to  the  meeting  to-night  ?" 

"I  am  quite  determined  to  go,"  said  Juliet  quietly,  as  she 
came  down  the  stairs.  "Will  you  have  anything,  Charles? 
No  ?  Then  let  us  start !  It  is  getting  late.  You  are  driving 
yourself  ?" 

He  threw  open  the  door  for  her  with  a  deep  bow.  "I 
always  drive  myself,  Juliette,  and — I  always  get  there,"  he 
said. 

Her  faint  laugh  floated  back  to  Dick  as  he  followed  them 
out. 


CHAPTER  VII 

FLIGHT 

IT  was  a  dumb  and  sullen  crowd  that  Dick  Green  faced 
that  night  in  the  great  barn  on  the  slope  of  High  Shale. 

A  rough  platform  had  been  erected  at  one  end  of  the 
place  and  this,  with  the  deal  table  and  lamp  and  one  or  two 
chairs,  was  all  that  went  to  the  furnishing  of  his  assembly- 
room.  The  men  stood  in  a  close  crowd  like  herded  cattle, 
and  the  atmosphere  of  the  place  was  heavy  with  the  reek 
of  humanity  and  coarse  tobacco-smoke.  There  was  a  door 
at  each  end,  but  the  night  was  still  and  dark  and  there  was 
little  air  beyond  the  vague  chill  of  a  creeping  sea-mist. 

Dick,  entering  at  the  door  at  the  platform  end  of  the 
building  instead  of  passing  straight  up  through  the  crowd  as 
was  his  custom,  was  aware  of  a  curious  influence  at  work 
from  the  first  moment — an  influence  adverse  if  not  directly 
hostile  that  reached  him  he  knew  not  how.  He  heard  a 
vague  murmur,  as  Juliet  and  Saltash  followed  him,  and 
sharply  he  turned  and  drew  Juliet  to  his  side.  In  that  in- 
stant he  realized  that  she  was  the  only  woman  in  the  place. 

He  faced  the  crowd,  his  hand  upon  her  arm.  "Well, 
men,"  he  said,  his  words  clean-cut  and  ready,  "so  you've 
left  your  wives  behind,  have  you?  I  on  the  contrary  have 
brought  mine,  and  she  has  promised  to  give  you  a  song." 

The  mutter  died.  Some  youths  at  the  back  started  ap- 
plause, which  spread  though  somewhat  half-heartedly 

331 


332  The  Obstacle  Race 

through  the  crowd,  and  for  a  space  the  ugly  feeling  died 
down. 

"We'll  get  to  business,"  said  Dick,  and  took  out  his  banjo. 

The  concert  began,  Ashcott  came  up  on  to  the  platform 
and  under  cover  of  Dick's  jangling  ragtime  spoke  in  a  low 
voice  and  urgently  to  Saltash. 

The  latter  heard  him  with  a  laugh  and  a  careless  grimace, 
but  a  little  later  he  leaned  towards  Juliet  who  sat  behind  the 
table  and  touched  her  unobtrusively.  She  looked  round  at 
him  almost  with  reluctance,  and  he  whispered  to  her  in  rapid 
French. 

She  listened  to  him  with  raised  brows,  and  then  shook  her 
head  with  a  smile.  "No,  of  course  not!  I  am  going  to 
sing  to  them  directly.  I  am  here  to  help— not  to  make  things 
worse." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said  no  more.  In  a  few 
minutes  Dick's  cheery  banjo  thrummed  into  silence  and  he 
turned  round. 

"Are  you  ready  ?"  he  said  to  Juliet. 

She  rose  and  came  forward,  tall  and  graceful,  bearing  the 
unmistakable  stamp  of  high-breeding  in  every  delicate 
movement.  She  might  have  been  on  the  platform  of  a  Lon- 
don concert-hall  as  she  faced  her  audience  under  the  shadow- 
ing hat. 

They  stared  at  her  open-mouthed,  spellbound,  awed  by  the 
quiet  dignity  of  her.  And  in  the  hush  that  fell  before  her, 
Juliet  began  to  sing. 

Her  voice  was  low,  highly  trained,  exquisitely  soft.  She 
sang  an  old  English  ballad  with  a  throbbing  sweetness  that 
held  her  hearers  with  its  charm.  And  behind  her  Dick 
leaned  against  the  table  with  his  banjo  and  very  softly  ac- 
companied her. 

His  face  was  in  shadow  also  as  he  bent  over  the  instru- 


Flight  333 

ment.    Not  once  throughout  the  song  did  he  look  up. 

When  she  ended,  there  came  that  involuntary  pause  which 
is  the  highest  tribute  that  can  be  paid  by  any  audience,  and 
then  such  a  thunder  of  applause  as  shook  the  building.  Salt- 
ash  stepped  forward  to  hand  her  back  to  her  chair,  but  the 
men  in  front  of  her  yelled  so  hoarse  a  protest  that,  laughing, 
he  retired. 

And  Juliet  sang  again  and  again,  thrilling  the  rough  crowd 
as  Dick  had  never  thrilled  them,  choosing  such  old-world 
melodies  as  reach  the  hearts  of  all.  Saltash  watched  her 
with  keen  appreciation  on  his  ugly  face.  He  was  an  accom- 
plished musician  himself.  But  Dick  with  his  banjo,  though 
he  responded  unerringly  to  every  shade  of  feeling  in  the 
beautiful  voice,  never  raised  his  head. 

It  was  he  who  at  last  came  forward  and  led  Juliet  back 
to  her  chair,  but  by  that  time  the  temper  of  the  men  had 
completely  changed.  They  shouted  good-humoured  com- 
ments to  him  and  bandied  jokes  among  themselves.  The 
whole  atmosphere  of  the  place  had  altered.  The  heavy  sul- 
lenness  had  passed  like  a  thunder-cloud,  and  Ashcott  no 
longer  smoked  his  pipe  in  the  doorway  with  an  air  of  gloomy 
foreboding. 

Dick  laid  aside  his  banjo  and  came  to  the  front  of  the 
platform.  There  was  absolute  confidence  in  his  bearing,  a 
vital  strength  that  imparted  a  mastery  that  yet  was  largely 
compounded  of  comradeship. 

He  began  to  speak  without  effort — as  a  man  speaks  to  his 
friends. 

"I  have  something  to  say  to  you  chaps,"  he  said,  "and  I 
hope  you  will  hear  me  out  fairly  even  though  it  may  not 
be  the  sort  of  thing  you  like  to  listen  to.  I  think  you  know 
that  I  care  a  good  deal  about  your  welfare,  and  I  am  doing 
my  level  best  to  secure  a  decent  future  for  you.  I  haven't 


334  The  Obstacle  Race 

accomplished  very  much  at  present,  but  I'm  sticking  to  if, 
and  I  believe  I  shall  win  out  some  day.  It  won't  be  my 
fault  if  I  don't,  and  I  hope  it  won't  be  yours.  What?"  as 
a  murmur  broke  out  in  the  background.  "Oh,  shut  up, 
please,  till  I've  done,  then  if  anyone  wants  to  talk  he  shall 
have  his  chance.  It  might  be  your  fault  if  I  failed  because 
I'm  counting  on  you  to  back  me  up  in  a  legal  and  orderly 
way.  And  if  you  don't,  well,  I'm  knocked  out  for  good  and 
all.  For  I'm  no  strike-leader,  and  any  man  who  strikes  can 
go  to  blazes  so  far  as  I'm  concerned.  I  wouldn't  lift  a 
finger  to  stop  him  going  or  to  get  him  out  when  there;  in 
fact  it's  the  best  place  for  him.  No,  boys,  listen !  Wait  till 
I've  done !  A  strike  is  a  deadly  thing.  It's  like  a  spreading 
poison  in  this  country,  and  the  beastly  root  of  it  is  just  self- 
ishness. It  will  choke  the  very  life  out  of  the  nation  if  it 
isn't  stopped.  It's  a  weapon  that  no  self-respecting  man 
should  smirch  his  hands  with.  I  know  very  well  there  are 
heaps  of  reforms  needed,  heaps  of  abuses  to  be  stopped,  but 
you  don't  cure  evil  with  evil.  You're  only  feeding  the  monster 
that  will  devour  you  in  the  end,  and  you're  feeding  him  with 
human  sacrifice  moreover.  Have  you  ever  thought  of  that? 
And  another  thing !  Do  you  ever  look  ahead — right  ahead — 
beyond  your  own  personal  wants  and  grievances?  Do  you 
ever  ask  yourselves  if  strikes  and  violence  are  going  to  bring 
forth  justice  and  equity?  Do  you  ever  work  the  thing  out 
to  its  proper  values — see  it  as  it  really  is?  This  continual 
striving  for  money,  for  power, — this  overthrowing  of  all 
established  control — do  you  call  it  a  fight  for  liberty  by  any 
chance?  I  tell  you,  men,  that  it's  a  struggle  for  the  most 
hideous  slavery  that  ever  disfigured  this  earth.  This  per- 
petual fight  for  self  will  end  in  self-destruction.  It  always 
does.  It's  the  law  of  creation.  The  thing  that  strikes  re- 
bounds upon  the  striker.  The  man  who  deliberately  injures 


Flight  335 

another  injures  himself  tenfold  more  seriously.  Isn't  there 
something  in  the  Bible  about  he  who  takes  the  sword  perishes 
with  the  sword?  That's  justice — God's  justice — and  there's 
no  getting  away  from  that.  You  can  overthrow  every  in- 
stitution that  was  ever  made,  but  you  will  never  set  up  in 
its  place  a  Government  that  will  bring  again  the  order  you 
hare  destroyed.  You  can  pull  the  Empire  to  pieces  with 
dissensions  and  conspiracies,  but — once  down — you  will 
never  build  it  up  again. 

"Grievances  ?  Yes,  of  course  you  have  grievances — heaps 
of  'em.  Who  hasn't.  And  you've  a  right  to  try  for  better 
conditions.  But  in  heaven's  name,  don't  strike  for  them! 
Don't  turn  the  whole  world  upside  down  because  you  want 
something  you  can't  get!  Be  sportsmen  and  play  a  decent 
game !  Stick  to  the  rules  and  you  may  win !  I  tell  you  I'm 
fighting  for  you — I'm  fighting  hard.  And  I  shan't  rest  so 
long  as  I  have  a  decent  crowd  to  fight  for.  But  if  you're 
going  to  follow  the  rotten  example  of  the  fellows  who  sacri- 
fice the  whole  community  to  their  own  beastly  greed — who 
strike  like  a  herd  of  sheep  because  a  few  damned  traitors 
urge  'em  to  it — who  fling  duty  and  honour  to  the  winds  on 
the  chance  of  grabbing  a  little  worldly  advantage — in  short, 
if  you're  not  going  to  observe  the  rules  of  the  game,  I've 
done  with  the  whole  show. 

"That's  the  position,  men,  and  I  want  you  to  get  hold  of 
it,  see  it  as  it  really  is.  Nothing  on  this  earth  worth  having 
was  ever  gained  by  disloyalty.  Think  it  out  for  yourselves ! 
Don't  be  led  by  the  nose  by  a  parcel  of  agitators !  Give  the 
matter  your  own  sane  and  deliberate  thought!  Form  your 
own  conclusions!  Throw  off  this  tyranny  of  other  men's 
notions,  and  be  free!  If  only  every  man  in  the  kingdom 
would  take  this  line  and  think  for  himself  instead  of  giving 
his  blind  allegiance  to  a  power  that  is  out  to  ruin  the  nation, 


336  The  Obstacle  Race 

there  would  pretty  soon  be  such  a  strike  against  strikes  as 
would  kill  'em  outright.  They're  a  hindrance  to  civilization 
and  a  curse  to  the  world  at  large.  They  are  selfishness  in- 
carnate and  a  stumbling-block  to  all  national  progress.  And 
if  there's  any  pride  of  race  in  you,  any  sense  of  an  English- 
man's honour,  any  desire  for  the  nation's  welfare  (which 
is  at  a  pretty  low  ebb  just  now)  join  with  me  and  do  your 
level  best  to  cast  out  this  evil  thing !" 

He  ended  as  he  had  begun  with  clear  and  spontaneous  ap- 
peal to  the  higher  instincts  of  his  hearers.  He  knew  them 
well,  knew  their  weakness  and  their  strength;  and  he  knew 
his  own  power  over  them  and  wielded  it  with  unfailing  con- 
fidence. 

The  hard-breathing  silence  that  succeeded  his  words  dis- 
mayed him  not  at  all.  He  waited  quite  calmly  for  the  ques- 
tion he  had  checked  at  the  outset. 

It  came  very  gruffly  from  a  burly  miner  immediately  in 
front  of  him.  "It's  all  very  well,"  the  man  said.  "But  how 
are  we  to  get  our  rights  any  other  way  ?" 

"Oh,  you'll  get  'em  all  right,"  Dick  made  answer.  "This 
isn't  an  age  of  serfdom.  You  won't  be  downtrodden  to  that 
extent.  You  stick  to  your  guns  and  have  a  little  patience ! 
Things  are  not  standing  still.  State  your  grievances — if 
they're  bad  enough — and  then  give  the  owners  a  chance! 
But  don't  forget  that  there's  got  to  be  give  and  take  between 
you !  If  you  want  fair  play  and  consideration  from  the  own- 
ers, you  must  give  them  the  same.  Don't  forget  that  you 
sink  or  swim  together!  If  you  ruin  them  you  ruin  your- 
selves. Disloyalty  means  disruption,  all  the  world  over.  So 
play  the  game  like  men!" 

It  was  at  this  point  that  Ashcott  touched  him  on  the 
shoulder  with  a  muttered  word  that  made  him  turn  sharply. 

"What?    Who?" 


Flight  337 

"Mr.  Ivor  Yardley!"  the  manager  muttered  uneasily. 
"He's  waiting  to  speak  to  you — says  he'll  address  the  men 
if  you'll  allow  him.  Think  it's  safe?" 

Dick  frowned.  "Of  course  it's  safe!  Where  is  he? 
Wait !  I'll  speak  to  him  first.  I'll  get  my  wife  to  sing  again 
while  I  do  it."  He  turned  round  to  Juliet  sitting  at  the  table 
behind  him  and  bent  to  speak  to  her.  "Can  you  give  them 
another  song — to  fill  in  time?  I've  got  to  speak  to  a  man 
outside."  His  eyes  travelled  swiftly  on  the  words  to  the 
open  doorway  where  a  tall  man,  wearing  a  motor-mask  and 
a  leather  coat,  stood  waiting. 

Juliet's  look  followed  his.  She  stood  up  quickly.  "Dick ! 
Who  is  it?" 

Something  in  her  voice  brought  his  eyes  back  to  her  in 
sudden  close  scrutiny.  For  that  instant  he  forgot  the  crowd 
of  men  and  the  need  of  the  moment,  forgot  the  man  who 
waited  in  the  background  whom  he  had  desired  so  urgently 
to  see,  forgot  the  whole  world  in  the  wide-eyed  terror  of  her 
look. 

Instinctively  he  stretched  an  arm  behind  her,  but  in  the 
same  moment  Saltash  came  swiftly  forward  to  her  other 
side,  and  it  was  Saltash  who  spoke  with  the  quick,  intimate 
reassurance  of  the  trusted  friend. 

"It's  all  right,  Juliette.  I'm  here  to  take  care  of  you. 
Give  them  one  more  song,  won't  you  ?  Afterwards,  if  you've 
had  enough  of  it,  I'll  take  you  back." 

She  turned  her  face  towards  him  and  away  from  Dick 
whose  arm  fell  from  her  unheeded;  but  her  gaze  did  not 
leave  the  figure  that  stood  waiting  in  the  dim  doorway,  up- 
right, grim  as  Fate,  watching  her  with  eyes  she  could  not  see. 

"Don't  be  afraid!"  urged  Saltash  in  his  rapid  whisper. 
"Anyhow,  don't  show  it!  I'll  see  you  through." 

"Are  you  ready?"  said  Dick  on  her  other  side. 


338  The  Obstacle  Race 

His  voice  was  absolutely  steady,  but  it  fell  with  an  icy 
ring,  and  a  great  quiver  went  through  her.  She  made  a  blind 
gesture  towards  Saltash,  and  in  an  instant  his  hand  gripped 
her  elbow. 

"Can't  you  do  it?"  he  said.  "Are  you  going  to  drop 
out?" 

She  recovered  herself  sharply,  as  though  something  in  his 
words  had  pierced  her  pride.  The  next  moment  very  quietly 
she  turned  back  to  Dick. 

"I  am  quite  ready,"  she  said. 

He  took  her  hand  without  a  word,  and  led  her  forward. 
Someone  raised  a  cheer  for  her,  and  in  a  second  a  shout 
of  applause  thundered  to  the  rafters. 

Dick  smiled  a  brief  smile  of  gratitude,  and  lifted  a  hand 
for  silence.  Then,  as  it  fell,  he  stepped  back. 

And  Juliet  stood  alone  before  the  rough  crowd. 

Those  who  saw  her  in  that  moment  never  forgot  her.  Tall 
and  slender,  with  that  unconsciously  regal  mien  of  hers  that 
marked  her  with  so  indelible  a  stamp,  she  stood  and  faced  the 
men  below  her.  But  no  song  rose  to  her  lips,  and  those  who 
were  nearest  to  her  thought  that  she  was  trembling. 

And  then  suddenly  she  began  to  speak  in  a  full,  quiet 
voice  that  penetrated  the  deep  hush  with  a  bell-like  clearness. 

"Men,"  she  said,  "it  is  very  kind  of  you  to  cheer  me, 
but  you  will  never  do  it  again.  I  have  something  to  tell  you. 
I  don't  know  in  the  least  how  you  will  take  it,  but  I  hope 
you  will  manage  to  forgive  me  if  you  possibly  can.  Mr. 
Green  is  your  friend,  and  he  knows  nothing  about  it,  so  you 
will  acquit  him  of  all  blame.  The  deception  is  mine  alone.  I 
deceived  him  too.  I  know  you  all  hate  the  Farringmores, 
and  I  daresay  you  have  reason.  You  have  never  spoken 
to  any  of  them  face  to  face  before,  because  they  haven't  cared 
enough  to  come  near  you.  But — you  can  do  so  to-night  if 


Flight  339 

you  wish.    Men,  I  am — Lord  Wilchester's  sister.    I  was — 
Joanna  Farringmore." 

She  ceased  to  speak  with  a  little  gesture  of  the  hands 
that  was  quite  involuntary  and  oddly  pathetic,  but  she  did 
not  turn  away  from  her  audience.  Throughout  the  deep 
silence  that  followed  that  amazing  confession  she  stood  quite 
straight  and  still,  waiting,  her  face  to  the  throng.  A  man 
was  standing  immediately  behind  her  and  she  was  aware  of 
him,  knew  without  turning  that  it  was  Saltash ;  but  the  one 
being  in  all  the  crowded  place  for  whose  voice  or  touch  in 
that  moment  she  would  have  given  all  that  she  had  neither 
spoke  nor  moved.  And  her  brave  heart  died  within  her.  If 
he  had  only  given  some  sign ! 

A  hoarse  murmur  broke  out  at  the  back  of  the  great  barn, 
spreading  like  a  wave  on  the  sea.  But  ere  it  reached  the 
men  in  front  who  stood  sullenly  dumb,  staring  upwards, 
Saltash's  hand  closed  upon  Juliet's  arm,  drawing  her  back. 
"After  that,  ma  chere,"  he  said  lightly  into  her  ear,  "y°u 
would  be  wise  to  follow  the  line  of  least  resistance." 

She  responded  to  his  touch  almost  mechanically.  The 
murmur  was  swelling  to  a  roar,  but  she  scarcely  heard  it. 
She  yielded  to  the  hand  that  guided,  hardly  knowing  what 
she  did. 

As  Saltash  led  her  to  the  back  of  the  platform  she  had 
a  glimpse  of  Dick's  face  white  as  death,  with  lips  hard-set 
and  stern  as  she  had  never  seen  them,  and  a  glitter  in  his 
eyes  that  made  her  think  of  onyx.  He  passed  her  by  without 
a  glance,  going  forward  to  quell  the  rising  storm  as  if  she 
had  not  been  there. 

The  man  in  the  leather  coat  was  with  him.  He  had  taken 
off  his  mask,  and  he  paused  before  Juliet — a  cynical  smile 
playing  about  his  face.  It  was  a  face  of  iron  mastery,  of 
pitiless  self-assertion.  The  eyes  were  as  points  of  steel. 


34°  The  Obstacle  Race 

He  bent  towards  her  and  spoke.  "I  thought  I  should  find 
you  sooner  or  later,  Lady  Jo.  I  trust  you  have  enjoyed  your 
game — even  if  you  have  lost  your  winnings !" 

She  spoke  no  word  in  answer,  but  she  made  a  slight, 
barely  perceptible  movement  towards  the  man  whose  hand 
upheld  her. 

And  Yardley  laughed — an  edged  laugh  that  was  inexpres- 
sibly cruel. 

"Oh,  go  to  the  devil !"  said  Saltash  with  sudden  fire.  "It's 
where  you  belong !" 

Yardley's  cold  eyes  gleamed  with  icy  humour.  "Eh  tu, 
Brute!"  he  said  with  sneering  lips.  "I  wish  you — joy!" 

He  passed  on.  Saltash's  arm  went  round  Juliet  like  a 
coiled  spring.  He  impelled  her  unresisting  to  the  door. 
Her  hand  rested  on  his  shoulder  as  she  stepped  down  from 
the  platform.  She  went  with  him  as  one  in  a  dream. 

The  air  smote  chill  as  they  left  the  heated  atmosphere,  and 
a  great  shiver  went  through  her. 

She  stood  still  for  a  moment,  listening.  The  tumult  had 
died  down.  A  man's  voice — Dick's  voice — clear  and  very 
steady,  was  speaking. 

"Come  away!"  said  Saltash  in  her  ear. 

But  yet  she  lingered  in  the  darkness.  "He  will  be  safe?" 
she  said. 

"Of  course  he  will  be  safe!  They  treat  him  like  a  god. 
Come  away !"  His  arm  was  urging  her.  She  yielded,  shiver- 
ing. 

He  hurried  her  up  the  slope  to  the  place  where  he  had  left 
his  car.  It  stood  at  the  side  of  the  rough  road  that  led  to 
High  Shale  point. 

They  reached  it.  Juliet  was  gasping  for  breath.  The 
sea-mist  was  like  rain  in  their  faces. 

"Get  in!"  he  said. 


Flight  341 

She  obeyed,  sinking  down  with  a  vague  thankfulness,  con- 
scious of  great  weakness. 

But  as  he  cranked  the  engine  and  she  felt  the  throb  of 
movement,  she  sat  up  quickly. 

"Charles,  what  am  I  doing?    Where  are  you  taking  me?" 

He  came  round  to  her  and  his  hands  clasped  hers  for  a 
moment  in  a  grip  that  was  warm  and  close.  He  did  not 
speak  at  once. 

Then,  lightly,  "I  don't  know  what  you'll  do  afterwards, 
ma  Juliette"  he  said.  "But  you  are  coming  with  me  now !" 

She  caught  her  breath  as  if  she  would  utter  some  protest, 
but  something  checked  her — perhaps  it  was  the  memory  of 
Dick's  face  as  she  had  last  seen  it,  stony,  grimly  averted,  un- 
compromisingly stern.  She  gripped  his  hands  in  answer, 
but  she  did  not  speak  a  word. 

And  so  they  sped  away  together  into  the  dark. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

OUT  OF  THE   NIGHT 

IT  was  very  late  that  night,  and  the  sea-mist  had  turned 
to  a  drifting  rain  when  the  squire  sitting  reading  in  his 
library  at  the  Court  was  startled  by  a  sudden  tapping  upon 
the  window  behind  him. 

So  unexpected  was  the  sound  in  the  absolute  stillness  that 
he  started  with  some  violence  and  nearly  knocked  over  the 
reading  lamp  at  his  elbow.  Then  sharply  and  frowning  he 
arose.  He  reached  the  window  and  fumbled  at  the  blind; 
but  failing  to  find  the  cord  dragged  it  impatiently  aside 
and  peered  through  the  glass. 

"Who  is  it?    What  do  you  want?" 

A  face  he  knew,  but  so  drawn  and  deathly  that  for  the 
moment  it  seemed  almost  unfamiliar,  peered  back  at  him. 
In  a  second  he  had  the  window  unfastened  and  flung  wide. 

"Dick!     In  heaven's   name,   boy, — what's   the   matter?" 

Dick  was  over  the  sill  in  a  single  bound.  He  stood  up  and 
faced  the  squire,  bare-headed,  drenched  with  rain,  his  eyes 
burning  with  a  terrible  fire. 

"I  have  come  for  my  wife,"  he  said. 

"Your  wife!  Juliet!"  The  squire  stared  at  him  as  if 
he  thought  him  demented.  "Why,  she  left  ages  ago,  man, — 
soon  after  tea!" 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know,"  Dick  said.  He  spoke  rapidly,  but 
with  decision.  "But  she  came  back  here  an  hour  or  two 

342 


Out  of  the  Night  343 

ago.  You  are  giving  her  shelter.  Saltash  brought  her — or, 
no — she  probably  came  alone." 

"You  are  mad!"  said  Fielding,  and  turned  to  shut  the 
window.  "She  hasn't  been  near  since  she  left  this  evening." 

"Wait!"  Dick's  hand  shot  out  and  caught  his  arm,  re- 
straining him.  "Do  you  swear  to  me  that  you  don't  know 
where  she  is?" 

The  squire  stood  still,  looking  full  and  hard  into  the  face 
so  near  his  own;  and  so  looking,  he  realized,  what  he  had 
not  grasped  before,  that  it  was  the  face  of  a  man  in  torture. 
The  savage  grip  on  his  arm  told  the  same  story.  The  fiery 
eyes  that  stared  at  him  out  of  the  death- white  countenance 
had  the  awful  look  of  a  man  who  sees  his  last  hope  shattered. 

Impulsively  he  laid  his  free  hand  upon  him.  "Dick — 
Dick,  old  chap, — what's  all  this?  Of  course  I  don't  know 
where  she  is !  Do  you  think  I'd  lie  to  you?" 

"Then  I've  lost  her !"  Dick  said,  and  with  the  words  some 
inner  vital  spring  seemed  to  snap  within  him.  He  flung  up 
his  arms,  freeing  himself  with  a  wild  gesture.  "My  God, 
she  has  gone — gone  with  that  scoundrel !" 

"Saltash?"  said  the  squire  sharply. 

"Yes.  Saltash !"  He  ground  the  name  between  his  teeth. 
"Does  that  surprise  you  so  very  much?  Don't  you  know 
the  sort  of  infernal  blackguard  he  is?" 

The  squire  turned  again  to  shut  the  window.  "Damn  it, 
Dick!  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it,"  he  said  with  vigour. 
"Get  your  wind  and  have  a  drink,  and  let's  hear  the  whole 
story !  Have  you  and  Juliet  been  quarrelling  ?" 

Dick  ignored  his  words  as  if  he  had  not  spoken.  "You 
needn't  shut  the  window,"  he  said.  "I'm  going  again.  I'm 
going  now." 

It  was  the  squire's  turn  to  assert  himself,  and  he  seized 
it.  He  shut  the  window  with  a  bang.  "You  are  not,  Dick ! 


344  The  Obstacle  Race 

Don't  be  a  fool!  Sit  down!  Do  you  hear?  Sit  down! 
You're  not  going  yet — not  till  you've  told  me  the  whole 
trouble.  So  you  can  make  up  your  mind  to  that !" 

Dick  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  as  if  he  were  on  the 
verge  of  fierce  resistance,  but  Fielding's  answering  look  held 
such  unmistakable  resolution  that  after  the  briefest  pause 
he  turned  aside. 

"I'm  sorry,  sir,"  he  said,  and  tramped  heavily  across  to 
the  hearth.  "Put  up  with  me  if  you  can!  God  knows  I'm 
up  against  it  hard  enough  to-night." 

He  rested  his  arms  on  the  mantelpiece  and  laid  his 
head  down  upon  them,  and  so  stood  motionless,  in  utter 
silence. 

The  squire  came  to  him  in  a  few  seconds  with  a  glass  in 
his  hand.  "Here  you  are,  Dick !  This  is  what  you're  want- 
ing. Swallow  it  before  you  talk  any  more !" 

Dick  reached  out  in  silence  and  took  the  glass.  Then  he 
stood  up  and  drank,  keeping  his  face  averted. 

Fielding  waited  till  at  last,  without  turning,  he  spoke. 
"I've  always  known  it  might  come  to  this,  but  I  never  realized 
why.  I  suppose  anyone  but  a  blind  fool  would  have  seen 
through  it  long  ago." 

"What  are  you  talking  about?"  said  the  squire.  "I'm  ut- 
terly in  the  dark,  remember." 

Dick's  hands  were  clenched.  "I'm  talking  of  Juliet  and — 
Saltash.  I've  always  known  there  was  some  sort  of  under- 
standing between  them.  He  flaunted  it  in  my  face  when- 
ever we  met.  But  I  trusted  her — I  trusted  her."  The  words 
were  like  a  muffled  cry  rising  from  the  depths  of  the  man's 
wrung  soul. 

"Sit  down!"  said  the  squire  gruffly,  and  taking  him  by 
the  shoulders  pushed  him  into  the  chair  irom  which  he  him- 
self had  so  lately  risen. 


Out  of  the  Night  345 

Dick  yielded,  with  the  submission  of  utter  despair,  his 
black  head  bowed  against  the  table. 

Fielding  stooped  over  him,  still  holding  him.  "Now,  boy, 
now!  Don't  let  yourself  go !  Tell  me — try  and  tell  me !" 

Dick  drew  a  hard  breath.  "You'll  think  I'm  mad,  sir.  I 
thought  I  was  myself  at  first.  But  it's  true — it  must  be  true. 
I  heard  it  from  her  own  lips.  Juliet — my  wife — my  wife — 
is — was — Lady  Joanna  Farringmore !" 

"Great  heavens !"  said  the  squire.    "Dick,  are  you  sure  ?" 

"Yes,  quite  sure.  She  was  caught — caught  by  Yardley  at 
the  meeting  to-night.  She  couldn't  escape — so  she  told  the 
truth — told  the  whole  crowd — and  then  bolted — bolted  with 
Saltash." 

"Great  heavens !"  said  the  squire  again.  "But — what  was 
Saltash  doing  there?" 

"Oh,  he  came  to  protect  her.  He  knew — or  guessed — 
there  was  something  in  the  wind.  He  came  to  support  her. 
I  know  now.  He's  the  subtlest  devil  that  ever  was  made." 

"But  why  on  earth — why  on  earth  did  she  ever  come 
here?"  questioned  Fielding. 

"She  was  hiding  from  Yardley  of  course.  He's  a  cold 
vindictive  brute,  and  I  suppose — I  suppose  she  was  afraid 
of  him,  and  came  to  me — came  to  me — for  refuge."  Dick 
was  speaking  through  his  hands.  "That's  how  he  regards  it 
himself.  She  was  always  playing  fast  and  loose  till  she 
got  engaged  to  him.  It  was  just  the  fashion  in  that  set. 
But  he — I  imagine  no  one  ever  played  with  him  before.  He 
swears — swears  he'll  make  her  suffer  for  it  yet." 

"Pooh !"  said  Fielding.  "How  does  he  propose  to  do  that? 
She's  your  wife  anyhow." 

"My  wife — yes."  Slowly  Dick  raised  his  head,  stared  for 
a  space  in  front  of  him,  then  grimly  rose.  "My  wife — as 
you  say,  sir.  And  I  am  going  to  find  her — now." 


346  The  Obstacle  Race 

"I'm  coming  with  you,"  said  Fielding. 

"No,  sir,  no!"  Dick  looked  at  him  with  a  tight-lipped 
smile  that  was  somehow  terrible.  "Don't  do  that!  You 
won't  want  to  be — a  witness  against  me." 

"Pooh!"  said  the  squire  again.  "I  may  be  of  use  to  you 
before  it  comes  to  that.  But  before  we  start  let  me  tell 
you  one  thing,  Dick!  She  married  you  because  she  loved 
you — for  no  other  reason." 

A  sharp  spasm  contracted  Dick's  hard  features ;  he  set  his 
lips  and  said  nothing. 

"That's  the  truth,"  the  squire  proceeded,  watching  him. 
"And  you  know  it.  She  might  have  bolted  with  Saltash 
before  if  she  had  wanted  to.  She  had  ample  opportunity." 

Dick's  hand  clenched  at  his  sides,  but  still  he  said 
nothing. 

"She  loved  you,"  the  squire  said  again.  "Lady  Jo — or 
no  Lady  Jo — she  loved  you.  It  wasn't  make-believe. 
She  was  fairly  caught — against  her  will  possibly — but 
still  caught.  She's  run  away  from  you  now — run  away 
with  another  man — because  she  couldn't  stay  and  face  you. 
Is  that  convincing  proof,  do  you  think,  that  she  has  ceased 
to  love  you?  It  wouldn't  convince  me." 

Dick's  clenched  hands  were  beating  impotently  against  his 
sides.  "I — can't  say,  sir,"  he  said,  between  his  set  teeth. 

The  squire  moved  impulsively,  laid  a  hand  on  his  shoulder. 
"Dick,  I've  seen  a  good  deal — suffered  a  good  deal — in  my 
time;  enough  to  know  the  real  thing  when  I  see  it.  She's 
loved  you  as  long  as  she's  known  you,  and  it's  been  the  same 
with  you.  You're  not  going  to  deny  that  ?  You  can't  deny 
it!"  " 

Dick  made  a  quick  gesture  of  protest.  For  a  moment  the 
tortured  soul  of  the  man  looked  out  of  his  eyes.  "Does  that 
make  it  any  better  ?"  he  said  harshly. 


Out  of  the  Night  347 

"In  my  opinion,  yes."  Fielding  spoke  with  decision.  "She 
may  have  taken  refuge  with  Saltash,  but  that  doesn't  prove 
anything — except  that  the  poor  girl  had  no  one  else  to  turn 
to.  You  had  failed  her — or  anyhow  you  didn't  offer  to 
stand  by." 

"I  couldn't !"  The  words  came  jerkily,  as  if  wrung  from 
him  by  main  force.  "For  one  thing — the  men  were  out  of 
hand,  and  it  was  as  much  as  I  could  do  to  hold  them.  She 
told  them,  I  tell  you — stood  up  and  told  them  straight  out — 
who  she  was.  And  they  loathe  the  whole  crowd.  It  was 
madness." 

"Pretty  sublime  madness !"  commented  the  squire.  "And 
then  Saltash  took  her  away.  Was  that  it?" 

"Yes."  Dick  spoke  with  intense  bitterness.  "It  was  the 
chance  he  was  waiting  for.  Of  course  he  seized  it.  Any 
blackguard  would." 

"But  you  thought  she  might  have  come  here?"  pursued 
the  squire. 

"I  thought  it  possible,  yes.  I  told  Yardley  it  was  so.  He 
of  course  sneered  at  the  bare  idea.  I  nearly  choked  him  for 
it.  But  I  might  have  known  he  was  right.  She  wouldn't 
risk — my  following  her.  She  wanted  to  be — free." 

"Why?  Is  she  afraid  of  you  then?"  Fielding's  voice  was 
stern. 

Dick  threw  up  his  head  with  the  action  of  a  goaded  animal. 
"Yes." 

"Then  you've  given  her  some  reason?" 

"Yes.  I  have  given  her  reason!"  Fiercely  he  flung  the 
words.  "You  want  to  know — you  shall  know !  This  evening 
she  found  out  something  about  me  which  even  you  don't 
know  yet — something  that  made  her  hate  me.  I  was  going 
to  tell  her  some  day,  but  the  time  hadn't  come.  She  said  if 
she  had  known  of  it  she  would  never  have  married  me.  I 


348  The  Obstacle  Race 

didn't  realize  then — how  could  I? — how  hard  it  hit  her. 
And  I  made  her  understand  that  having  married  me — it  was 
irrevocable.  That  was  why  she  ran  away  with  Saltash.  She 
didn't — trust  me — any  longer." 

"But,  my  good  fellow,  what  in  heaven's  name  is  this  aw- 
ful thing  that  even  I  don't  know?"  demanded  the  squire. 
"Don't  tell  me  there  has  ever  been  any  damn'  trouble  with 
another  woman!" 

"No — no!"  Dick  broke  into  a  laugh  that  was  inexpres- 
sibly painful  to  hear.  "There  has  never  been  any  other 
woman  for  me.  What  do  I  care  for  women  ?  Do  you  think 
because  I've  made  a  blasted  fool  of  myself  over  one  woman 
that  I " 

"Shut  up,  Dick !"  Curtly  the  squire  checked  him.  "You're 
not  to  say  it — even  to  me.  Tell  me  this  other  thing  about 
yourself — the  thing  I  don't  know !" 

"Oh,  that!  That's  nothing,  sir,  nothing — at  least  you 
won't  think  it  so.  It's  only  that  during  the  past  few  years 
some  books  have  been  published  by  one  named  Dene  Strange 
that  have  attracted  attention  in  certain  quarters." 

"I've  read  'em  all,"  said  the  squire.    "Well?" 

"I  wrote  them,"  said  Dick ;  "that's  all." 

"You!"    Fielding  stared.    "You,  Dick!" 

"Yes,  I.  I  meant  to  have  told  you,  but  so  long  as 
my  boy  lived,  my  job  seemed  to  be  here,  so  I  kept  it  to  my- 
self. And  then — when  she  came — she  told  me  she  hated  the 
man  who  wrote  those  books  for  being  cynical — and  merciless. 
So  I  wrote  another  to  make  her  change  her  mind  about  me 
before  she  knew.  It  is  only  just  published.  And  she  found 
out  before  she  read  it.  That's  all,"  Dick  said  again  with 
the  shadow  of  a  smile.  "She  found  out  this  evening.  It  was 
a  shock  to  her — naturally.  It's  been  a  succession  of  ob- 
stacles all  through — a  perpetual  struggle  against  odds.  Well, 


Out  of  the  Night  349 

it's  over.  At  least  we  know  what  we're  up  against  now. 
There  will  be  no  more  illusions  of  any  sort  from  to-day  on." 
He  paused,  stood  a  moment  as  if  bracing  himself,  then 
turned.  "Well,  I'm  going,  sir.  Come  if  you  really  must, 
but — I  don't  advise  it." 

"I  am  coming,"  said  the  squire  briefly.  His  hand  went 
from  Dick's  shoulder  to  his  arm  and  gave  it  a  hard  squeeze. 
"Confound  you!  What  do  you  take  me  for?  he  said. 

Dick's  hand  came  swiftly  to  his.  "I  take  you  for  the 
best  friend  a  man  ever  had,  sir,"  he  said. 

"Pooh !"  said  the  squire,, 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE   FREE    PARDON 

TEN  minutes  later  they  went  down  the  dripping  avenue 
in  the  squire's  little  car.  The  drifting  fog  made  an  inky 
blackness  of  the  night,  and  progress  was  very  slow  under 
the  trees. 

"We  should  be  quicker  walking,"  said  Dick  impatiently. 

"It'll  be  better  when  we  reach  the  open  road,"  said  Field- 
ing, frowning  at  the  darkness. 

The  light  at  the  lodge-gates  flung  a  wide  glare  through 
the  mist,  and  he  steered  for  it  with  more  assurance.  They 
passed  through  and  turned  into  the  road. 

And  here  the  squire  pulled  up  with  a  jerk,  for  immedi- 
ately in  front  of  them  another  light  shone. 

"What  the  devil  is  that,  Dick?" 

"It's  another  car,"  said  Dick  and  jumped  out.  "Hullo, 
there !  Anything  the  matter  ?"  he  called. 

"Damnation,  yes !"  answered  a  voice.  "I've  run  into  this 
infernal  wall  and  damaged  my  radiator.  Lost  my  mascot  too, 
damn  it!  Sort  of  thing  that  always  happens  when  you're 
in  a  hurry." 

"Who  is  it?"  said  Dick  sharply. 

He  was  standing  almost  touching  the  car,  but  he  could 
not  see  the  speaker  who  seemed  to  be  bent  and  hunting  for 
something  on  the  ground. 

350 


The  Free  Pardon  351 

A  sound  that  was  curiously  like  a  chuckle  answered  him 
out  of  the  darkness,  but  no  reply  came  in  words. 

Dick  stood  motionless.  "Saltash !"  he  said  incredulously. 
"Is  it  Saltash?" 

"Why  shouldn't  it  be  Saltash  ?"  said  a  voice  that  laughed. 
"Thank  you,  Romeo  ?  Come  and  help  me  out  of  this  damn' 
fix!  Oh,  I'm  fed  up  with  playing  benevolent  fool.  It  gives 
me  indigestion.  Curse  this  fog!  Afraid  I've  knocked  a 
few  chips  off  your  beastly  wall.  Ah !  Here's  the  mascot ! 
Now  perhaps  my  infernal  luck  will  turn!  What  are  you 
keeping  so  quiet  about  ?  Aren't  you  pleased  to  see  me  ?  Not 
that  you  can — but  that's  a  detail." 

"Are  you — alone?"  Dick  said,  an  odd  tremor  in  his 
voice. 

"Of  course  I'm  alone!  What  did  you  expect?  No,  no, 
my  Romeo,  I  may  be  a  fool,  but  I'm  not  quite  such  a  three- 
times-distilled  imbecile  as  that  amounts  to.  Have  you  got 
a  gun  there  ?" 

"No!"  Dick's  voice  sounded  half -strangled,  as  though 
he  fought  against  some  oppression  that  threatened  to  over- 
whelm him.  "What  have  you  come  back  for?  Tell  me 
that!" 

"I'll  tell  you  anything  you  like,"  said  Saltash  generously; 
"including  what  I  think  of  you,  if  you  will  help  me  to  shove 
this  thing  into  a  more  convenient  locality  and  then  take 
me  in  and  give  me  a  drink." 

"You'd  better  get  the  car  up  the  drive  here,"  came  Field- 
ing's voice  out  of  the  darkness.  "You  can  see  more  or  less 
what  you're  doing  under  the  lamp.  Wait  while  I  get  my 
own  out  of  the  way !" 

"Excellent!"  said  Saltash.  "I'm  immensely  grateful  to 
you  sir,  for  not  smashing  me  up.  What,  Romeo?  Did  I 
hear  you  say  you  wished  he  had?  I  didn't?  Then  I  must 


352  The  Obstacle  Race 

have    sensed   battle,    murder   and    sudden    death    in   your 
silence." 

But  whatever  Dick's  silence  expressed  he  refused  stub- 
bornly to  break  it.  When  the  squire  had  manoeuvred  his 
car  out  of  the  way,  he  lent  his  help  to  pushing  Saltash's 
across  the  road  and  up  the  drive  into  safety,  but  he  did 
not  utter  a  single  word  throughout  the  performance. 

"A  thousand  thanks !"  gibed  Saltash.  "Now  for  the  great 
reckoning !  I  say,  you  will  give  me  a  drink,  won't  you,  be- 
fore you  send  me  to  my  account  ?  The  villain  always  has  a 
drink  first.  He's  entitled  to  that  at  least." 

Again  Fielding's  voice  came  through  Dick's  silence. 
"Yes,  come  up  to  the  schoolhouse !"  he  said.  "We 
can't  talk  here.  Have  you  got  the  key,  Dick?  Ah,  that's 
right." 

He  found  Dick  and  thrust  a  hand  through  his  arm,  lead- 
ing him,  stiffly  unresponsive,  across  the  road. 

At  the  gate  Dick  stopped  and  spoke.  "Let  him  go  in 
front!"  he  said. 

"With  pleasure,"  laughed  Saltash.  "I'm  lucky  to  have 
met  you  here.  I  was  wondering  how  I  should  manage  to 
break  in." 

He  went  up  the  path  before  them  with  his  careless  tread, 
and  waited  whistling  while  Dick  opened  the  door. 

The  lamp  in  the  little  hall  was  burning  low,  but  it  shone 
upon  his  ugly  face  as  he  entered  and  showed  him  the  only 
one  of  the  three  who  felt  at  ease.  With  royal  assurance 
he  turned  to  Dick. 

"Well  ?  Have  you  got  a  table  and  pistols  for  two  ?  Great 
Scott,  man !  You  look  like  a  death-mask !  Come  along  and 
let's  get  it  over !  Then  perhaps  you'll  feel  better." 

Dick  stood  upright  by  Fielding's  side,  listening  to  the 
taunting  words  with  a  face  that  was  indeed  like  a  death- 


The  Free  Pardon  353 

mask — save  for  the  eyes  that  glowed  vividly,  terribly,  with 
something  of  a  tigerish  glare. 

He  spoke  at  last  with  deadly  quietness  through  lips  that 
did  not  seem  to  move.  "Where  have  you  taken  my  wife?" 

"Oh,  she's  quite  safe,"  said  Saltash;  and  smiled  with  a 
fox-like  flash  of  teeth.  "I  am  taking  every  care  of  her. 
You  need  have  no  anxiety  about  that." 

"I  asked — where  you  had  taken  her,"  Dick  said,  his  words 
low  and  distinct,  wholly  without  emotion. 

Saltash's  odd  eyes  began  to  gleam.  "I  heard  you,  mon 
ami.  But  since  the  lady  is  under  my  protection  at  the 
present  moment,  I  am  not  prepared  to  answer  that  question 
off-hand — or  even  at  all,  until  I  am  satisfied  as  to  the  kind- 
ness— or  otherwise — of  your  intentions.  When  I  give  my 
protection  to  anyone — I  give  it." 

"Is  that  what  you  came  back  to  say?"  said  Dick,  still 
without  stirring  hand  or  feature. 

"By  no  means,"  said  Saltash  airily.  "I  didn't  come  to 
see  you  at  all.  I  came — to  fetch  Columbus !" 

He  turned  with  the  words,  hearing  a  low  whine  at  the 
door  behind  him,  and  opening  it  released  the  dog  who  ran 
out  with  eager  searching.  Saltash  stooped  to  fondle  him. 

Something  that  was  like  an  electric  thrill  went  through 
Dick.  He  took  a  sudden  step  forward. 

"Damn  you !"  he  said,  and  gripped  Saltash  by  the  collar. 
"Tell  me  where  she  is!  Do  you  hear?  Tell  me!" 

Saltash  straightened  himself  with  a  lightning  movement. 
They  looked  into  each  other's  eyes  for  several  tense  seconds. 
Then,  though  no  word  has  passed  between  them,  Dick's 
hand  fell. 

"That's  better,"  said  Saltash.  "You're  getting  quite  civil. 
Look  here,  my  bully  boy !  I'll  tell  you  something — and  you'd 
better  listen  carefully,  for  there's  a  hidden  meaning  to  it. 


354  The  Obstacle  Race 

You're  the  biggest  ass  that  ever  trod  this  earth.     There!'* 

He  put  up  a  hand  to  his  crumpled  collar  and  straightened 
it,  still  with  his  eyes  upon  Dick's  face. 

"Got  that?"  he  asked  abruptly.  "Well,  then,  I'll  tell  you 
something  else.  I've  got  a  revolver  in  my  pocket.  I  put 
it  there  in  case  the  miners  needed  any  persuasion,  but  you 
shall  have  it  to  shoot  me  with — and  no  doubt  Mr.  Fielding 
will  kindly  turn  his  back  while  you  do  it — if  you  will  answer 
— honestly — one  question  I  should  like  to  put  to  you  first. 
Is  it  a  deal?" 

Dick  was  breathing  quickly.  He  stood  close  to  Saltash, 
urged  by  a  deadly  enmity  and  still  on  the  verge  of  violence, 
but  restrained  by  something  about  the  other  man's  attitude 
that  he  could  not  have  defined. 

"Well  ?"  he  said  curtly  at  length.  "What  do  you  want  to 
know?" 

Saltash's  lips  twisted  in  a  faintly  sardonic  smile.  "Just 
one  thing,"  he  said.  "Don't  speak  in  a  hurry,  for  a  good  deal 
depends  upon  it!  If  some  kind  friend — like  myself  for 
instance — had  come  to  you,  say,  the  night  before  your  wed- 
ding and  told  you  that  you  were  about  to  marry  Lady  Jo 
Farringmore,  would  you  have  gone  ahead  with  it — or  not?" 

He  asked  the  question  with  a  certain  wariness  as  a  player 
who  stakes  more  on  a  move  than  he  would  care  to  lose.  The 
glint  of  the  gambler  shone  in  his  curious  eyes.  His  right 
hand  was  thrust  into  his  pocket. 

Fielding  was  watching  that  right  hand  narrowly,  but  Dick's 
look,  grim  and  unwavering,  never  left  his  opponent's  face. 

"Why  do  you  want  to  know?"  he  demanded. 

Saltash's  smile  deepened,  became  a  grimace,  and  vanished. 
"I  will  tell  you  when  you  have  answered  me,"  he  said.  "But 
whatever  you  say  will  be  used  against  you, — mind  that!" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  Dick  said. 


The  Free  Pardon  355 

"Never  mind  what  I  mean !  Just  answer  me !  Answer  me 
now!  Would  you  have  married  her  under  those  circum- 
stances? Or  would  you — have  thrown  her  over — to  me?" 

Dick's  eyes  blazed.  "You  damn'  blackguard !  Of  course 
I  should  have  married  her!" 

"You  are  sure  of  that?"  Saltash  said. 

"Damn  you — yes!"  With  terrific  force  Dick  answered 
him.  He  stood  like  an  animal  ready  to  spring,  goaded  to 
the  end  of  his  endurance,  yet  waiting — waiting  for  some- 
thing, he  knew  not  what. 

If  Saltash  had  smiled  then  he  would  have  been  upon  him 
in  an  instant.  But  Saltash  did  not  smile.  He  knew  the 
exact  value  of  the  situation,  and  he  handled  it  with  a  sure 
touch.  With  absolute  gravity  he  took  his  hand  from  his 
pocket. 

Fielding  took  a  swift  step  forward,  but  with  an  odd  twist 
of  the  brows  Saltash  reassured  him.  He  held  out  a  revolver 
to  Dick  on  the  palm  of  his  hand. 

"Here  you  are !"  he  said.  "It's  fully  loaded.  If  you  want 
to  shoot  a  friend,  you'll  never  have  a  better  chance.  Mr. 
Fielding  will  you  kindly  look  the  other  way?" 

Dead  silence  followed  his  words.  The  lamplight  flickered 
on  Dick's  face,  throwing  into  strong  relief  every  set  grim 
feature.  His  lips  were  tightly  compressed — a  single  straight 
line  across  his  stern  face.  His  eyes  never  varied ;  they  were 
almost  unbearably  bright.  They  held  Saltash's  with  a 
tensity  of  purpose  that  was  greater  than  any  display  of 
physical  force.  It  was  as  if  the  two  were  locked  in  silent 
combat. 

It  lasted  for  many  seconds,  that  mute  and  motionless 
duel,  then  very  suddenly  from  a  wholly  unexpected  quarter 
there  came  an  interruption.  Columbus,  sensing  trouble, 
pushed  his  stout  person  between  the  two  men  and  leapt 


356  The  Obstacle  Race 

whining  upon  Dick,  pawing  at  him  imploringly  with  almost 
human  entreaty. 

It  put  an  end  to  the  tension.  Dick  looked  down  involun- 
tarily and  meeting  the  dog's  beseeching  eyes,  relaxed  in  spite 
of  himself.  Saltash  uttered  a  curt  laugh  and  returned  the 
revolver  to  his  pocket. 

"That  settles  that,"  he  observed.  "Columbus,  my  ac- 
knowledgments— though  I  am  quite  well  aware  that  your 
eloquent  appeal  is  not  made  on  my  behalf !  You  know  what 
the  little  beggar  is  asking  for,  don't  you?" 

Dick  laid  a  soothing  hand  on  the  grizzled  head.  "All 
right,  Columbus!"  he  said. 

Saltash's  smile  leapt  out  again.  "Oh,  it's  all  right,  is  it? 
I  am  to  have  a  free  pardon  then  for  boosting  you  over  your 
last  fence?" 

Again  Dick's  eyes  came  to  him,  and  a  very  faint,  re- 
mote smile  shone  in  them  for  an  instant  in  answer.  Then, 
very  steadily,  without  a  word,  he  held  out  his  hand. 

Saltash's  came  to  meet  it.  They  looked  each  other  again 
in  the  eyes — but  with  a  difference.  Then  Saltash  began  to 
laugh. 

"Go  to  her,  my  cavalier!  You'll  find  her — waiting — on 
the  Night  Moth." 

"Waiting?"    Dick  said. 

"For  Columbus,"  said  Saltash  with  his  most  derisive 
grin,  and  tossed  Dick's  hand  away. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE    LAST    FENCE 

A  CHILL  breeze  sprang  up  in  the  dark  of  the  early  morning 
and  blew  the  drifting  fog  away.  The  stars  came  out  one 
by  one  till  the  whole  sky  shone  and  quivered  as  if  it  had 
been  pricked  by  a  million  glittering  spear-points.  The  tide 
turned  with  a  swelling  sound  that  was  like  a  vast  harmony, 
formless,  without  melody,  immense.  And  in  the  state-cabin 
of  the  Night  Moth,  the  woman  who  had  knelt  for  hours 
by  the  velvet  couch  lifted  her  face  to  the  open  port-hole 
and  shivered. 

She  had  cast  her  hat  down  beside  her,  and  the  cold  night- 
wind  that  yet  had  a  faint  hint  of  the  dawn  in  it  ruffled  the 
soft  hair  about  her  temples.  Her  face  was  dead-white, 
drawn  with  unspeakable  weariness,  with  piteous  lines  about 
the  eyes  that  only  long  watching  can  bring.  She  looked 
hopeless,  beaten. 

The  shaded  light  that  gleamed  down  upon  her  from  the 
cabin-roof  seemed  somehow  to  hurt  her,  for  after  a  second 
or  two  she  leaned  to  one  side  without  rising  from  her  knees 
and  switched  it  off.  Then  with  her  hands  tightly  clasped, 
she  gazed  out  over  the  dim,  starlit  sea.  The  mystery  of  it, 
the  calm,  the  purity,  closed  round  her  like  a  dream.  She 
gazed  forth  into  the  great  waste  of  rippling  waters,  her  chin 
upon  her  hands. 

357 


358  The  Obstacle  Race 

Softly  the  yacht  lifted  and  sank  again  to  the  gentle  swell. 
The  wild  waves  of  a  few  hours  before  had  sunk  away.  It 
was  a  world  at  peace.  But  there  was  no  peace  in  the  eyes 
that  dwelt  upon  that  wonderful  night  scene.  They  were  still 
with  the  stillness  of  despair. 

The  cold  air  blew  round  her  and  again  she  shivered  as 
one  chilled  to  the  heart,  but  she  made  no  move  to  pick  up 
the  cloak  that  had  fallen  from  her  shoulders.  She  only 
knelt  there  with  her  face  to  the  sea,  staring  out  in  dumb 
misery  as  one  in  whom  all  hope  is  quenched. 

From  somewhere  on  shore  there  came  the  sound  of  a 
clock  striking  the  hour  in  clear  bell-like  notes.  One,  two, 
three !  And  then  silence,  with  the  murmur  and  splash  of  the 
rising  tide  spreading  all  around. 

And  then  suddenly  out  of  the  utter  quietness  there  came  a 
sound — the  scuttle  of  scampering  feet  and  an  eager  whining 
at  the  door  behind  her.  It  stabbed  like  a  needle  through  her 
lethargy.  In  a  moment  she  was  on  her  feet. 

The  door  burst  in  upon  her  as  she  opened  it,  and  immedi- 
ately she  was  sprung  upon  and  almost  borne  backwards  by 
the  wriggling,  ecstatic  figure  of  Columbus.  He  flung  him- 
self into  her  arms  with  yelps  of  extravagant  joy,  as  if  they 
had  been  parted  for  months  instead  of  hours,  and  when, 
somewhat  overwhelmed  with  this  onslaught  she  sat  down  with 
him  on  the  couch,  he  scrambled  all  over  her,  licking  wildly 
whatever  part  of  her  his  tongue  could  reach. 

It  took  some  time  for  his  rapturous  greetings  to  subside, 
but  finally  he  dropped  upon  the  couch  beside  her,  pressed 
to  her,  temporarily  exhausted  but  still  wriggling  spasmodi- 
cally whenever  her  hand  moved  upon  him.  And  then  Juliet, 
for  some  reason  that  she  could  not  have  explained,  found  her- 
self crying  in  the  darkness  as  she  had  not  cried  all  through 
that  night  of  anguish. 


The  Last  Fence  359 

Columbus  was  deeply  concerned.  He  crept  closer  to  her, 
pawed  at  her  gently,  stood  up  and  licked  her  hair.  But  she 
wept  on  helplessly  for  many  seconds  with  her  hands  over 
her  face. 

It  was  Columbus  who  told  her  by  a  sudden  change  of  at- 
titude that  someone  had  entered  at  the  open  door  and  was 
standing  close  to  her  in  the  dark.  She  started  upright  very 
swiftly  as  the  dog  jumped  down  to  welcome  the  intruder. 
Vaguely  through  the  dimness  she  saw  a  figure  and  leapt  to 
her  feet,  her  hands  tight  clasped  upon  her  racing  heart. 

"Charles!     Why  have  you  come  here?" 

There  was  an  instant  of  stillness,  then  a  swift  movement 
and  a  man's  arms  caught  her  as  she  stood  and  she  was  a 
prisoner. 

She  made  a  wild  struggle  for  freedom.  "No— no!"  she 
panted.  "Let  me  go !" 

But  he  held  her  fast, — so  fast  that  she  gasped  and 
gasped  for  breath, — saying  no  word,  only  holding  her,  till 
suddenly  she  cried  out  sharply  and  her  resistance  broke. 

She  hid  her  face  against  him.    "You !"  she  said.    "You !" 

He  held  her  yet  in  silence  for  a  space,  and  through  the 
silence  she  heard  the  beat  of  his  heart;  quick  and  hard,  as 
if  he  had  been  running  a  race.  Then  over  her  bowed  head  he 
spoke,  his  voice  deep,  vibrant,  seeming  to  hold  back  some 
inner  leaping  force. 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  I  should  follow  you — and  bring  you 
back?" 

She  shrank  at  his  words.  "I  can't  come — I  can't  come !" 
she  said. 

"You  will  come,  Juliet,"  he  said  quietly. 

"No— no!"  She  lifted  her  head  in  sudden  passionate 
protest.  "Not  to  be  tortured!  I  can't  face  it!  Before 
God  I  would  rather — I  would  rather — die!" 


360  The  Obstacle  Race 

He  answered  her  with  flame  that  leaped  to  hers.  "And 
don't  you  think  I  would  rather  die  than  let  you  go?" 

"Ah!"  she  said,  and  no  more;  for  the  fierce  possession 
of  his  hold  checked  all  remonstrance. 

She  sought  to  hide  her  face  again,  but  he  would  not 
suffer  it,  and  in  the  end  with  an  anguished  sound  she  ceased 
to  battle  with  him  and  sank  down  in  utter  weakness  in  his 
hold. 

He  lifted  her  then,  but  he  did  not  kiss  her.  He  found 
the  sofa  and  laid  her  down  upon  it.  Then  she  heard  him 
feeling  along  the  wall  for  the  switch. 

She  reached  out  a  quivering  hand  and  pressed  it,  then 
as  the  light  glowed  she  turned  from  him,  covering  her 
eyes  from  his  look.  He  stood  for  a  few  seconds  gazing  down 
at  her,  almost  as  if  at  a  loss. 

And  while  he  so  stood,  there  arose  a  sudden  deep  throbbing 
that  mingled  with  the  splash  of  water,  and  the  yacht  ceased 
to  rise  and  fall  and  thrilled  into  movement. 

Juliet  gave  a  great  start.  "Dick !  What  are  they  doing  ? 
Oh,  stop  them — stop  them!" 

He  stooped  and  caught  her  outflung  hands.  His  eyes 
looked  deeply  into  hers.  "They  are  obeying — my  orders," 
he  said. 

"Yours?"  She  gazed  up  at  him  incredulously,  shivering 
all  over  as  if  in  an  ague. 

His  face  told  her  nothing.  It  was  implacable,  granite- 
like,  save  for  the  eyes,  and  from  those  she  shrank  uncon- 
trollably as  though  they  pierced  her. 

"Yes,  mine,"  he  said  sombrely.  "I  have — something  to 
teach  you,  Juliet — something  that  you  can  only  learn — 
alone  with  me.  And  till  you  have  learnt  it,  there  will  be  no 
going  back." 

She  bent  her  head  to  avoid  the  unwavering  directness  of 


The  Last  Fence  361 

his  look.  "You — are  going  to  hurt  me — punish  me,"  she 
said  under  her  breath. 

His  hands  still  held  hers,  and  strangely  there  was  some- 
thing sustaining  as  well  as  relentless  in  their  grasp. 

"It  may  hurt  you,"  he  said.  "I  don't  feel  I  know  you 
well  enough  to  judge.  As  to  punishing  you — "  he  paused 
?.  moment — "well,  I  think  you  have  punished  yourself  enough 
already." 

Again  a  great  tremor  went  through  her, — a  tremor  that 
ended  in  a  sob.  She  bent  her  head  a  little  lower  to  hide 
her  tears.  But  they  fell  upon  his  hands  and  she  could  not 
check  them.  Her  throat  worked  convulsively,  resisting  all 
her  efforts  and  self-control.  She  became  suddenly  blinded 
and  overwhelmed  by  bitter  weeping. 

"Ah,  Juliet — Juliet!"  he  said,  and  went  down  on  his 
knees  before  her,  folding  her  closely,  closely  to  his  breast .  .  . 

It  seemed  to  her  a  very  long  time  later  that  she  found 
herself  lying  exhausted  against  the  sofa-cushions,  feeling 
his  arm  still  about  her  and  poignantly  conscious  of  his 
touch.  His  other  hand  was  pressed  upon  her  forehead,  and 
her  tears  had  ceased.  She  could  not  remember  that  he  had 
spoken  a  single  word  since  he  had  taken  her  into  his  arms, 
neither  had  he  kissed  her,  but  all  her  fear  of  him  was  gone. 

Through  the  open  port-hole  there  came  to  her  the  swish 
of  water,  and  she  heard  the  throb  and  roar  of  the  engines 
like  the  sound  of  a  distant  train  in  a  tunnel.  Moved  by  a 
deep  impulse  that  came  straight  from  her  soul,  she  took  the 
hand  that  lay  upon  her  brow  and  drew  it  downwards  first 
to  her  lips,  holding  it  there  with  closed  eyes  while  she 
kissed  it  then  softly  to  her  heart  while  she  turned  her  eyes 
to  his. 

"Oh,  Dick,"  she  said,  "are  you  sure — are  you  quite 
sure — that — that — I  am  worth  keeping  ?" 


362  The  Obstacle  Race 

"I  am  quite  sure  I  am  going  to  keep  you,"  he  answered 
very  steadily. 

Her  two  hands  closed  fast  upon  his.  "Not — not  as  a 
prisoner  ?"  she  whispered,  wanly  smiling. 

"Yes,  a  prisoner,"  he  said,  not  without  a  certain  grim- 
ness,  "that  is,  until  you  have  learnt  your  lesson." 

"What  lesson?"  she  asked  him  wonderingly. 

"That  you  can't  do  without  me,"  he  said,  a  note  of 
challenge  in  his  voice. 

Something  in  his  look  hurt  her.  She  freed  one  hand 
and  laid  it  pleadingly,  caressingly,  against  his  neck.  "Oh, 
Dicky,"  she  said,  "trying  to  understand!" 

His  face  changed  a  little,  and  she  thought  his  mouth 
quivered  ever  so  slightly  as  he  said.  "It's  now  or  never, 
Juliet.  If  I  don't  come  to  a  perfect  understanding  with 
you  to-night,  we  shall  be  strangers  for  the  rest  of  our 
lives." 

She  shivered  at  the  finality  of  his  words,  but  they  gave 
her  light.  "I  have  hurt  you — horribly!"  she  said. 

He  was  silent. 

She  pressed  herself  to  him  with  a  sudden  passionate 
gesture.  "Dick — my  husband — will  you  forgive  me — can 
you  forgive  me — before  you  understand?" 

Her  eyes  implored  him,  yet  just  for  a  second  he  hesi- 
tated. Then  very  swiftly  he  gathered  her  closely,  closely 
against  his  heart,  and  kissed  her  pleading,  upturned  face 
over  and  over.  "Yes!"  he  said.  "Yes!" 

She  clung  to  him  with  all  her  quivering  strength.  "I 
love  you,  darling!  I  love  you, — only — only — you!"  she 
whispered  brokenly.  "You  believe  that?" 

"Yes,"  he  said  again  between  his  kisses. 

"And  if  I  tried  to  do  without  you  it  was  only  because — 
only  because — I  loved  you  so,"  she  faltered  on.  "Your 


The  Last  Fence  363 

anger  is  just — the  end  of  the  world  for  me,  Dick.  I  can't 
face  it.  It  tears  my  very  self." 

"My  darling !    My  own  love !"  he  said. 

"And  then — and  then — I  had  such  an  awful  doubt  of 
you,  Dicky.  I  thought  your  love  was  dead,  and  I  thought 
— and  I  thought  I  couldn't  hope  to  hold  you — after  that. 
I'd  got  to  free  you  somehow.  Oh,  Dicky,  what  agony 
love  can  be !" 

"Hush,  darling,  hush!"  he  said. 

She  lay  in  his  arms,  her  eyes  looking  straight  up  to  his. 
"I  never  meant  to  do  it,  dear, — never  meant  to  win  your 
love  in  the  first  place.  I  always  knew  I  wasn't  worthy  of 
it.  I  think  I  told  you  so.  Dicky,  listen !  I've  had  a  horrid 
life.  My  mother  was  divorced  when  Muff  and  I  were  young- 
sters at  school.  My  father  died  only  a  year  after,  and  no  one 
ever  cared  what  happened  to  us  after  that.  We  had  an  aunt 
— Lady  Beatrice  Farringmore — and  she  launched  me  in 
society  when  I  left  school.  But  she  never  cared — she  never 
cared.  She  was  far  too  busy  with  her  own  concerns.  I  just 
went  with  the  crowd  and  pleased  myself.  No  one  ever  took 
anything  seriously  in  our  set.  It  was  just  a  mad  rush  of 
gaiety  from  morning  till  night.  We  were  like  a  lot  of  empty- 
headed,  mischievous  children,  horribly  selfish  of  course,  but 
not  meaning  any  harm — at  least  not  most  of  us.  Everyone 
had  a  nickname.  It  was  the  fashion.  It  was  Saltash  who 
first  called  me  Juliet.  He  said  I  was  so  tragically  in  earnest 
— which  was  really  not  true  in  those  days.  And  I  called  him 
Charles  Rex." 

She  paused,  for  Dick's  arms  had  tightened  about  her. 

"Go  on !"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice.  "I  suppose  he — made 
love  to  you,  did  he  ?" 

"Everyone  did  that,"  she  said.  "He  was  just  a  specimen 
of  the  rest — except  that  I  always  somehow  knew  he  had 


364  The  Obstacle  Race 

more  heart.  It  was  just  a  game  with  us  all.  It  used  to 
frighten  me  rather  at  first  till — till  I  got  used  to  it.  When  I 
was  quite  young  I  had  rather  a  bitter  lesson.  I  began  to 
care  for  a  man  who  I  thought  was  in  earnest,  and  I  found 
he  wasn't.  After  that,  I  never  needed  another.  I  played 
the  game  with  the  rest.  Sometimes  I  hurt  people,  but  I  didn't 
care.  I  always  said  it  was  their  fault  for  being  taken  in." 

"That  doesn't  sound  like  you,"  he  said. 

"That  was  me,"  she  returned,  with  a  touch  of  recklessness, 
"till  I  read  that  first  book  of  yours — The  Valley  of  Dry 
Bones.  That  brought  me  up  short.  It  shocked  me  horribly. 
You  cut  very  deep,  Dicky.  I'm  carrying  the  scars  still." 

He  bent  without  words  and  set  his  lips  to  her  forehead, 
keeping  them  there  in  mute  caress  while  she  went  on. 

"I  had  just  begun  to  play  with  Ivor  Yardley.  He  was  my 
latest  catch,  and — I  was  rather  proud  of  him.  He  didn't 
trouble  to  pursue  many  women.  And  then — after  reading 
that  book — I  felt  so  evil,  so  unspeakably  ashamed,  that,  when 
I  knew  he  was  really  in  earnest,  I  didn't  throw  him  off  like 
the  rest.  I  accepted  him." 

She  shuddered  suddenly  and  -wined  her  arm  about  her 
husband's  neck. 

"Dicky,  I — went  through  hell — after  that.  I  tried — I 
tried  very  hard — to  be  honourable — to  keep  my  word.  But — 
when  the  time  drew  near — I  simply  couldn't.  He  always 
knew — he  must  have  known — I  didn't  love  him.  But  he  just 
wanted  me,  and  he  didn't  care.  And  so — almost  at  the  last 
moment — I  let  him  down — I  ran  away.  And,  oh,  Dicky,  the 
peace  of  this  place  after  all  that  misery  and  turmoil !  You 
can't  imagine  what  it  was  like.  It  was  heaven.  And  I 
thought — I  thought  it  was  going  to  be  quite  easy  to  be  good !" 

"And  then  I  came  and  upset  it  all,"  murmured  Dick,  with 
his  lips  against  her  hair. 


The  Last  Fence  365 

Her  hold  tightened.  "It's  been  one  perpetual  struggle 
against  appalling  odds  ever  since,"  she  said.  "If  it  hadn't 
been  for — Robin — I  should  never  have  married  you." 

"Yes,  you  would,"  he  said  quietly.  "That  was  meant. 
I've  realized  that  since." 

"I  am  not  sure,"  she  said.  "If  you  hadn't  been  so  miser- 
able, I  should  have  told  you  the  truth.  You  wouldn't  have 
married  me  then." 

"Yes,  I  should,"  he  said. 

She  drew  a  little  away  to  look  into  his  face.  "Dick,  are 
you  sure  of  that  ?" 

"I  am  quite  sure,"  he  said,  and  faintly  smiled.  "It's  just 
because  I  am  sure,  that  I  am  with  you  now — instead  of  Salt- 
ash.  It  was  his  own  test." 

Her  eyes  met  his  unflinching.  "Dick,  you  believe  that 
Saltash  and  I  are  just — friends  ?" 

"I  believe  it,"  he  said. 

"And  you  are  not  angry  with  him !" 

"No."  He  spoke  with  slight  effort.  "I  am — grateful  to 
him." 

"But  you  don't  like  him  ?"  she  said. 

He  hesitated  momentarily.    "Do  you?" 

"Yes,  of  course."  Her  brows  contracted  a  little.  "I  can't 
help  it.  I  always  have,"  she  said  rather  wistfully. 

He  bent  abruptly  and  kissed  them.  "All  right,  darling. 
So  do  I,"  he  said. 

She  smiled  at  him,  clinging  closely.  "Dicky,  that's  the 
most  generous  thing  you  ever  did!" 

"Oh,  I  can  afford  to  be  generous,"  he  said,  "now  that  I 
know  your  secrets  and  you  know  mine.  Will  you  tell  me 
something  else  now,  Juliet?" 

"Yes,  dear,"  she  whispered. 

He  laid  his  cheek  against  hers.    "I  was  going  to  tell  you 


366  The  Obstacle  Race 

my  secret  when  you  had  read  that  last  book  of  mine.  When 
were  you  going  to  tell  me  yours?" 

"Oh,  Dicky!"  she  said  in  some  confusion,  and  hid  her 
face  against  his  neck. 

"No,  tell  me !"  he  said.    "I  want  to  know." 

But  Juliet  only  clung  a  little  faster  to  him  and  buried 
her  face  a  little  deeper. 

"Weren't  you  ever  going  to  tell  me?"  he  said,  after  a 
moment. 

"Oh,  yes — some  time,"  she  murmured  from  his  breast. 

"Well,  when?"  he  persisted.     "Just — any  time?" 

"No,  dear,  of  course  not!"  A  muffled  sound  that  was 
half -sob  and  half -laugh  came  with  the  words. 

Dick  waited  for  a  space,  and  then  very  gently  began  to 
feel  for  the  hidden  face.  She  tried  to  resist  him,  then,  find- 
ing he  would  not  be  resisted,  she  took  his  hand  and  pressed 
it  over  her  eyes,  holding  it  as  a  shield  between  them. 

"Won't  you  tell  me  ?"  he  said. 

She  trembled  a  little  in  his  hold.  "That — that — is  another 
secret,  Dicky,"  she  said  very  softly. 

"Mayn't  I — share  it,  sweetheart  ?"  he  said. 

She  uncovered  her  eyes  with  a  little  tremulous  laugh,  and 
lifted  them  to  his.  "Oh,  I'm  a  coward,  Dicky,  a  horrid 
coward.  I  thought — I  thought  I  would  tell  you  everything 
when — when  you  were  holding  your  son  in  your  arms.  I 
thought  you  would  have  to — forgive  me  then." 

"Oh,  Juliet — Juliet !"  he  said,  and  tried  to  smile  in  answer, 
but  could  not.  His  lips  quivered  suddenly,  and  he  laid  his 
head  down  upon  her  breast. 

And  so,  with  her  arms  around  him  and  the  warm  throb- 
bing of  her  heart  against  his  face,  he  came  to  the  perfect 
understanding. 


The  Last  Fence  367 

They  saw  the  morning  break  through  a  silver  mist,  stand- 
ing side  by  side  on  deck  with  the  water  sweeping  snow- 
white  from  their  keel. 

Juliet,  within  the  circle  of  her  husband's  arm,  looked  up 
and  broke  the  silence  with  a  sigh  and  a  smile. 

"Good  morning,  Romeo!  And  now  that  I've  learnt  my 
lesson,  hadn't  we  better  be  going  home?" 

He  kissed  her,  and  drew  her  cloak  more  closely  round 
her.  "Do  you  want  to  go  home?"  he  said. 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  whimsical  frown.  "Well,  I 
think  I  am  at  home  wherever  you  are.  But  you  are  such  a 
busy  man.  You  can't  be  spared." 

"They've  got  to  spare  me  for  to-day,"  he  said. 

"Ah !    And  to-morrow  ?" 

"To-morrow  too,  Juliet.  I'm  giving  up  my  work  at  Little 
Shale." 

"But  you  can't  give  it  up  at  a  moment's  notice,"  she  said. 

"The  squire  is  managing  it.  They  can  close  the  school  for 
a  week  anyway.  Then  he  can  find  a  substitute." 

Juliet  pondered  this.  Then,  "Let's  go  back  till  the  end 
of  the  term,  Dicky !"  she  said. 

He  looked  at  her.    "You  want  to,  my  Lady  Joanna?" 

She  shook  her  head  at  him.  "You're  not  to  call  me  that. 
Yes,  I'd  like  to  go  back  and  finish  there,  but  only  as  your 
wife — nothing  else." 

"My  lady  wife !"  he  said,  patting  her  cheek. 

She  leaned  her  head  against  his  shoulder.  "Yes,  and  there 
are  the  miners  to  settle.  Do  you  think  they'll  ever  be  friends 
with  me,  Dick?" 

"Of  course  they  will,"  he  said.  "By  the  way,  Juliet,  I've 
a  piece  of  news  for  you.  You  know  what  Yardley  came 
for?" 

"No,  I  don't,"  she  said,  looking  momentarily  startled. 


368  The  Obstacle  Race 

His  hand  reassured  her.  "No,  not  for  you,  darling.  He 
didn't  expect  to  find  you.  No,  he  came  because  he  had  been 
told — by  Jack,  if  you  want  to  know — that  I  was  doing  the 
work  of  an  agitator  among  the  men." 

"Dick!"  she  said,  with  quick  indignation.  "How  dared 
he?" 

His  touch  restrained  her.  "It  doesn't  matter.  He  came 
to  see  for  himself,  and  he  knows  better  now.  He  told  me 
after  the  meeting  that  I  could  take  over  his  share  of  the 
concern  if  I  liked.  And  I  took  him  at  his  word  then  and 
there.  I've  got  some  money  put  by,  and  the  squire  can  put 
up  the  rest.  Do  you  think  your  brother  will  mind?" 

"Muff!"  she  said.    "Oh  no!    He  never  minds  anything." 

"I'll  buy  him  out  too  then  some  day,  and  we'll  make  that 
mine  a  going  concern,  Juliet.  I'll  teach  those  men  to  use 
their  brains  instead  of  being  led  by  these  infernal  revolu- 
tionists. They  shall  learn  that  those  who  fight  for  them- 
selves alone  never  get  there.  I'll  teach  'em  the  rules  of  the 
game.  They  shall  learn  to  be  sportsmen." 

Juliet's  eyes  were  shining.    "Bravo,-  Dick !"  she  said  softly. 

He  met  her  look.  "You'll  have  to  help  me,  sweetheart," 
he  said. 

She  gave  him  her  hands.  "I  will  help  you  in  all  that  you 
do,  Dick,"  she  said. 

It  was  at  this  point  that  Columbus,  who  had  been  sitting 
a  little  apart  with  his  back  turned,  got  up,  shook  himself 
vigorously  as  if  to  give  warning  of  his  approach,  and  went 
to  Juliet. 

He  set  his  paws  against  her  with  a  loud  pathetic  yawn. 

She  bent  over  him.  "Oh,  poor  Columbus !  He's  so  bored ! 
Do  you  want  to  go  home,  my  Christopher  ?" 

"Poor  chap !"  said  Dick.  "It  is  rather  hard  to  be  dragged 
away  on  someone  else's  honeymoon  whether  you  want  to  or 


The  Last  Fence  369 

not.  Had  enough  of  it,  eh?  Think  it's  high  time  we  took 
the  missis  home?" 

Columbus  snuffled  into  his  hand,  and  wagged  himself  from 
the  tail  upwards. 

Juliet  put  her  arms  round  him  and  kissed  him.  "Dear  old 
fellow,  of  course  he  does !  He  thinks  we  are  just  the  silliest 
people  alive.  Perhaps — from  some  points  of  view — we  are." 

Columbus  said  nothing,  but  he  surveyed  them  both  with  a 
look  of  twinkling  humour,  and  then  smothered  a  laugh  with 
a  sneeze. 


THE  END 


A  Selection  from  the 
Catalogue  of 

C.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


Complete   Catalogues  sent 
on  application 


^he  Novelist 
who  never  had 
a  failure! 


All  other  novelists,  no 
matter  what  their 
fame,  have  slumped— 


14 


13 


12 


11 


The  Obstacle  Race 


Rosa  Mundi 


TheTopoftheWorld 


The  Tidal  Wave 


never,  Dell.    It  is  a 
perfect  staircase 

up  to  Fame,  an          _^ 

astounding  cres-   io  [  The  Lamp  in  the  Desert 

cendo,  from 

"TheWayof 

anEagle"up 

to  this  new    7 

one 


Greatheart 


The  Safety  Curtain 


The  Hundredth  Chance 


Bars  of  Iron 


The  Keeper  of  the  Door 


The  Swindler 


The  Rocks  of  Valpre 


The  Knave  of  Diamonds 


The  Way  of  an  Eagle 


t 

Obstacle  Race 

New  York  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons  London 


The  Top  of  the  World 

By  ETHEL  M.  DELL 

HPHIS  is  the  love  story  of  a  girl,  Sylvia 
•*•  Ingleton,  who  pins  all  her  faith  upon 
the  lover  of  her  early  youth,  trusting  him 
so  implicitly  that,  after  five  years'  separa- 
tion from  him,  she  is  not  afraid  to  turn 
to  him  for  refuge  when  the  second  mar- 
riage of  her  father  makes  her  own  home 
no  longer  endurable.  But  Guy  Ranger, 
the  lover,  fails  her  at  this  most  critical 
moment  hi  her  life,  and  she  is  thrown 
instead  upon  the  chivalry  of  his  cousin, 
Burke  Ranger. 

The  rest  of  the  story  deals  with  the 
bitter  struggle  between  the  old  love  and 
the  new,  and  the  dangers  and  difficulties 
of  the  path  which  leads  at  last  to  that 
region  at  the  top  of  the  world  which  it  is 
given  to  only  a  few  travellers  to  find. 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

NEW  YORK  LONDON 


Rosa  Mundi 

By 

Ethel  M.  Dell 

Author  of 

•The  Top  of  the  World."  "The  Lamp  in  the  Desert.* 
"The  Way  of  an  Eadle."  etc. 


Some  of  the  finest  stories  ever  written  by 
Miss  Ethel  M.  Dell  are  gathered  together  in 
this  volume.  They  are  arresting,  thrilling, 
tense  with  throbbing  life,  and  of  absorbing 
interest;  they  tell  of  romantic  and  passionate 
episodes  in  many  lands — in  the  hill  districts 
of  India,  in  the  burning  heart  of  Africa,  and 
in  the  colonial  bush  country.  The  author's 
vivid  and  vigorous  style,  skillfully  developed 
plots,  her  intensely  sympathetic  treatment  of 
emotional  scenes,  and  the  strongly  delineated 
character  sketches,  are  typical  of  Ethel  M. 
Dell's  best  work,  and  this  volume  will  be 
found  to  contain  some  of  the  most  remarkable 
of  her  shorter  romances. 


ERIK  DORN 

BY 

BEN  HECHT 

H.  L.  MENCKEN  says: 

"Disorderly,  iconoclastic  and  novel  in  form, 
'Dorn'  is  one  of  the  most  stimulating  and  orig- 
inal stories  I  have  encountered  in  many  days. 
It  would  be  hard  to  exceed  the  brilliancy  of 
some  of  its  episodes.  It  has  upon  me  the 
effect  of  a  gaudy  and  fantastic  panorama,  in 
which  the  movement  is  almost  acrobatic  and 
the  color  is  that  of  a  Kaleidoscope." 

BURTON  RASCOE  says: 

"Ben  Hecht,  among  all  the  young  men  of  the 
post-war  generation  of  American  Novelists, 
has,  it  seems  to  me,  the  most  opulent  equip- 
ment in  the  matter  of  intelligence,  experience 
and  imaginative  power.  The  verbal  patterns, 
the  pungently  evocative  word  combinations, 
the  strange  richness  of  metaphor  of  'Erik 
Dorn,'  if  for  no  other  reason,  cause  it  to  stand 
out  as  a  distinct  new  model  in  mechanics  of 
expression." 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILI 


A     000  121  855     1 


C 


